


Dawn Lily, Dusk Rose

by Wysteria_Fox



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dancer, Dreams, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hallucinations, Highlander Hyur, Loss of Control, Love, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Possession, Samurai, Stormblood Spoilers, The Echo, The Resonant, Thighlander best Hyur, Two Minds One Body, Visions, Well not really, Zenos is a beautiful disaster, down the line, monk - Freeform, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wysteria_Fox/pseuds/Wysteria_Fox
Summary: After defeating Zenos yae Galvus and the primal Shinryu, the Warrior of Light falls ill and begins to have strange dreams and hallucinations of the Garlean prince. She hears his voice, his specter follows her, and she swears he's guiding her hand with his own. Was it the aether sickness messing with her head or something more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just got back into Final Fantasy XIV and felt compelled to write a "what if" premise kind of story after finishing the MSQ for Stormblood again. I'll gauge interest and if you all like it, I'll continue. Thank you.

No, he wouldn’t do it. He was bluffing; the bastard had to be bluffing! The Warrior of Light watched, shocked to see her enemy draw his katana to his own throat. The sharp edge lingered above his skin, a mere centimeter from his jugular; she shook her head in disbelief. 

The devil that wore the face of an angel. His pale blue eyes met hers and a knot formed in her chest, hard, cold, and heavy like a block of ice. Sympathy? Grief? Horrified, she pushed those feelings away only for them to crawl back and sink their claws in deeper. It was wrong; such emotion was not meant for a deluded monster like Zenos yae Galvus.

He drew his bloodied lips into a gentle smile. It was one unlike any she’d seen from the crown prince before. This was no subtle smirk touched with a hint of malice. This was a true smile, probably the first and last to grace him. It was a smile meant only for her. A thank you. The hero had given him what he wanted.

“Coward!” Alphinaud yelled.

“Stop!” Lyse charged, fist raised to strike, but the Warrior of Light knew it was already too late. Not that she could move even if she desired to do so. The shock that held her heart captive froze her legs. Anxiety always found the worst time to strike. 

“Farewell, my first friend. My enemy.” 

Time slowed, and each second dragged almost as if the cold, unforgiving steel laid against her own flesh. Zenos’s gaze remained fixated on her as he pressed down, immediately drawing blood along his skin. A throbbing pain pulsed through her temple, sudden and intense; it nearly caused the woman’s knees to give out. It traveled lower, circling around her chest, a tightening squeeze as if a hand was clutching her heart. A flash of white left her blind, and a rush of hazy images followed, overwhelming the warrior. Whatever she saw, it happened too fast. Her mind couldn’t grasp any of it. A wave of nausea struck soon after, and the hero wavered on her feet again. That was like no Echo vision she’d had before, but it faded just as quickly as it had begun. No matter. Too much was happening for her to ponder on it now.

Zenos made his move. The Warrior of Light reached out in vain, teeth bared as the blade dug deeper into his flesh. He severed the artery with one swift stroke. Zenos looked content as his eyes closed, free from the empty hell he believed the world to be. The sword slipped from his grasp, clattering with a dull thud upon the soil. His life force spilled out, spraying his dark armor, and golden strands in crimson. He collapsed to the ground, stirring up a gust of petals in his wake and was still.

The Scions gaped in silence. That was it. The tyrant of Ala Mhigo was dead. The man didn’t hesitate to take his own life. In fact, he appeared to take solace in it. Zenos was a cold, unfeeling demon; and yet, witnessing his death left the Warrior of Light uneasy.

A flurry of footsteps came from behind as more arrived at the scene. The Warrior of Light only heard a buzz of voices as she stared at the Garlean’s corpse. She didn’t turn around to see who was there, but she thought she heard General Aldynn. The Hyur couldn’t find the willpower to draw her eyes away from her fallen foe. All she could do was stare at Zenos’s body, dumbfounded. This was really happening. Zenos committed suicide— more than that, he had stared into her soul, savoring whatever connection he thought he shared with the woman before departing for the eternal flames. It was crazy; she knew that, and yet, the adventurer’s heart ached all the same for her hunter. She had never felt so conflicted in her life. 

The Warrior of Light stepped closer; her crakows scrape across the patterned stone before they sunk into the soft dirt of the flower bed. Slowly, she knelt down next to to the prince. On his back, he looked as peaceful and serene as he probably did sleeping. That Zenos would look so beautiful even in death irked her. He deserved to be burned and his ashes tossed into a sewage pipe. Even that send off was too good for him.

Thinking back, she recalled his fit of madness, expressing his passion for violence and how it was the only truth of their pitiful existence. It had been a convincing act, or so she wanted to believe. The Hyur wondered if—no; she knew he had been genuine. Zenos never struck her as a liar. At the very least, the lunatic had been honest.

The Garlean had practically poured his heart out to her. The Warrior of Light was the only one he thought understood him in his sad, boring, world. The only prey that gave him pause and stole his attention from the mundane life that suffocated his every waking moment. For Zenos, she had been a kindred spirit and prey, an equal and savage, a friend and enemy. How such contradictions meshed she didn’t know, but the Garlean had not questioned it.

From the beginning, Zenos had thrust the warrior into a storm of complex emotions. Their first battle ended with her laying defeated and broken at his feet. After all the challenges that stood in her way, she fell to the viceroy of Ala Mhigo. Zenos had struck her down so ruthlessly that it broke his sword clean in half. She still wasn’t sure how she survived such a blow. Just thinking about it made the scar burn across her chest.

Pathetic. Pathetic, he had called her. That word lit a fire in the warrior’s soul, a raging inferno that hadn’t dimmed until, well, this moment. She had been infuriated, embarrassed, distraught, and, although reluctantly, impressed by his strength. It was a humbling experience. Since that event, she couldn’t keep her mind off of him.

_ What was his technique? How did he do this? What could I have done better? How in the seven hells did he do that and why can’t I avoid it?! _ Were the thoughts that had plagued her.

In her down time, out of sight from the Scions and her allies, the Warrior of Light obsessed over the battles she had lost. She analyzed the memories so many times they haunted her dreams. She wanted to beat him; she had to beat him! Too much lay on the line. The people placed their faith in her. When the woman had failed those that looked up to her, it tore the adventurer apart to see the glimmer in their eyes fade to hopelessness. She was their hero. She didn’t lose. She didn’t give up. She overcame the impossible and won. She was the Warrior of Light, hope incarnate. She had to live up to that title. She had to. For Eorzea, for her friends and family, and, as petty as it sounded, because she wanted to get back at Zenos and prove she wasn’t pathetic.

The deed was done. The hero had won and Ala Mhgio was liberated from tyranny; and yet, as the Warrior of Light knelt there next to her rival, she was numb to joy. This was a victory. So, why did she feel like she had lost something? It scared her. If the hunter is nothing without the hunt, then what was the prey without her hunter? A hunter that could push its prey to grow and evolve so it may strike back stronger than before. After her adventures in Ishgard, the Hyur had believed her might had reached its peak. Zenos showed her that was not so. There was far more that she could learn and learn she did. The Warrior of Light gained the strength she needed to protect what she loved and fell the villain that threatened it. 

Finding new power didn’t come as fast to her as it once did. Tumbling a few primals was no longer enough to illict improvement. That in and of itself was a frightening prospect. Tower above the gods, indeed. That thought sent a shiver through her spine. Losing to Zenos gave her the push and drive she needed; that realization disgusted her. He couldn’t be that responsible for the power she had worked so hard for. She wouldn’t accept it, but alas it was difficult to deny. Zenos was part of the reason that she had strived to gain so much power, if not a good chunk of it. Was she really that egotistical? 

The Warrior of Light lowered her gaze. At his side laid one of his three infamous katanas: Ame-no-Habakiri. Its name came to her mind instantly, although she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it. No doubt she’d caught wind of the Domans whispering of it in Yanxia. Who knows? Shaking slightly, her fingers wrapped around the hilt, drawing the blade up only to lower it right back down as the prince’s blood rolled along its edge. Wiping it off in the grass, she held the katana between her hands, peering into the reflection of her own eyes. All of this chaos because he longed to feel something. To find the perfect beast for his hunt. A soul with whom he could share a kinship. She wasn’t sure whether it was right to be happy about his death or feel pity. Perhaps she was weak of heart, too forgiving, or her complex as the Warrior of Light simply made her yearn to help everyone, even someone as irredeemable as the crown prince of Garlemald.

The viceroy had been so wrapped up in his rant, that the warrior couldn’t help but hang on his every word. “Man should fight for the joy of it. To live, to eat, to breed— lesser beasts snap and howl at one another for this. Only man has the wisdom and the clarity to embrace violence for its own sake. For we who are born into this merciless, meaningless world, have but one candle of light to burn. I know you understand this. You and I are one and the same. Together, we could while away the quiet hours as friend and confidant… if you would accept me.”

His bored and apathetic expression was gone; this was who he really was. This was the man buried beneath that indifferent persona he chose to wear. He had been so excited, almost like he was a child retelling a story. By Rhalgar, it had been creepy, but what was worse was that the Warrior of Light found his enthusiasm contagious despite the insanity. Thankfully, none of her allies had been around during the final confrontation. Allured and troubled by his speech, the Highlander had, against her better judgement, accepted him as a friend. Maybe she could help him. Even if he didn’t deserve it, she had to try.

  
Life wasn’t that easy. A good heart to heart wasn’t going to work with Zenos. He had laughed at the woman for it and rightfully so. Who wouldn’t? He at least respected the honesty. The Warrior of Light couldn’t just… Eorzea and Doma couldn’t let bygones be bygones. A hug wasn’t going to erase all the death and destruction that had been sown by the Empire. The viceroy knew how ridiculous it was to cast all that aside as did she, but the adventurer had always tried to be an optimist even in the face of impossible odds. That’s what had gotten her so far, despite the anxiety that tried to sabotage her. One side of her wanted to try to be diplomatic while the other had been hungry— no, starving for this final battle. Kami forefend, she’d been drooling at the mere thought of being locked in combat with the Garlean again and he knew.

“You live for these moments. When all hangs in the balance… when the difference between life and death is but a single stroke.” her heart had been racing as he spoke and those eyes of his turned wild once more. “I live for them too! This is who we are, my friend! This is all we are! Ala Mhigo, Doma, and Garlemald be damned!” It was then he broke Omega’s bindings holding the ekion.

_Yes! Bring it on! _she’d thought. _Let’s do this! Don’t hold back! This time, I refuse to lose. I will royally kick your ass, princeling. Go on and possess Shinryu. See how far it gets you._

Like Zenos said, he and the hero of Eorzea were warriors and there was only one way their encounter could end. And end it did. She wanted to believe she was not like him. That’s what her mind screamed, but her heart couldn’t refuse all that Zenos said. She did live for those moments between the seconds. That’s why she had become an adventurer. It was fun! Fighting monsters and bad guys was fun. It was as simple as that. Learning new abilities, exploring new places, and battling bigger and stronger enemies was a rush she was addicted to. Then it got a lot more complicated, but she clung to her mantle as Warrior of Light with pride. She enjoyed making others happy, helping and protecting those that could not help themselves. Both the Warrior of Light and the Garlean prince enjoyed the thrill of battle and challenge; it was true, but for her it was more than just that. It was so much more. The key difference was that Zenos had no regard for human life while the Warrior of Light strove to save it. That one aspect made all the difference.

A hand touched her shoulder and the Warrior of Light flinched. Lyse gave the Hyur a kind, but concerned smile. “Hien is right, Wysteria.”

Wysteria had no idea what the prince of Doma said, but she nodded anyway. Rising to her feet, she noticed the viceroy’s infamous sword revolver at his side. A sudden urge seized Wysteria, and she unhooked the large device from his armor. It wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be or maybe she was just too strong to realize it was. The others watched their hero curiously. It wasn’t unknown that the Warrior of Light looted the corpses of her fallen foes, but the prize she was taking could be seen as controversial. They did not act opposed to her actions, however. After all, she just saved them. If the Warrior of Light wanted to wield Zenos’s swords as her own, they weren’t going to start a dispute.

“Those cursed blades have caused more suffering than I dare to imagine.” Raubahn said. “However, I know you will use them to save more lives than that monster took.”

The Warrior of Light smiled and nodded to the Flame General. That’s right. That was the intention. Yes, of course. It wasn’t just a sudden whim or because they looked neat. Everything she did had some kind of poetic and meaningful intention behind it. Yep… she sincerely hoped they’d keep believing that she was that clever. It certainly made her feel better.

Hooking the revolver sheath to her side, Wysteria slid Ame-no-Habakiri into its proper place and was surprised how smooth and natural it felt. No wonder the prince had carried this ridiculous contraption around. There was something satisfying about having the katanas gathered like that at her disposal. There was a switch to activate the rotator, and although she was very tempted to push the button, she held off. Now was not the time.

Arenvald and his companions arrived, looking over the menagerie. Without a word, he took the horn at his side and blew. A deep “thum” bellowed throughout the Lochs and a roar of cheers erupted in the city. The war wasn’t over, not by far, but they were finally free. Everyone followed Lyse to meet up with the Resistance and Alliance leaders. They lined the path and saluted before falling in behind.

They looked so happy and it touched Wysteria. No longer was she a failure. In the end, she had come through for the Ala Mhigan people. Her people. It was strange to think of it like that. Growing up in Kugane with her Hingan father and Ala Mhigan mother, so far removed from her kin, she never truly felt like she was one of them. In Thanalan, she’d been spit on by other Highlanders. Now, they smiled at her as one of their own. It was a nice feeling, to not be an outsider.

The pain from before returned to Wysteria’s head, growing more acute with each step. The Echo again? It was like no vision she had ever experienced before; mostly because she wasn’t seeing anything. It was a similar pain, amplified beyond normal. This had been a stressful day and her nerves were shot. Perhaps it was a simple headache and nothing more. Yes, that was probably it she decided. She tried to ignore it, but the pain had other ideas, steadily increasing. The Warrior of Light wanted to stop and rest, but she wouldn’t allow that. The people wanted to see their saviors, and she was one of them. She wasn’t going to stop over a migraine. Once they were done greeting the people, she could go sit down and sip on some cold water. Yes, that sounded great. Not much longer.

As Lyse stepped forward, overlooking the ramparts, the people broke into song. It was vaguely familiar to the warrior, but she didn’t know the lyrics of the Ala Mhigan anthem by heart. Not that her headache would let her try to join in even if she did.

_“Oh come ye wayward brothers,_

_Bereft of hearth and home,”_

It was getting worse. How could it be getting worse? The light of the desert sun was agony on her eyes, scorching her mind. She reached up, acting as if she were merely wiping sweat from her brow, but in truth she desired just a few moments of darkness. It did little to help.

_“Beneath yon burning star there lies_

_A haven for the bold.”_

A cold sweat began to form on the back of her neck and spread to her palms. Her already fair skin now looked like plaster. Sick. Oh gods, she felt sick. Her stomach wanted to dump all of its contents over the balcony. No! Seven hells, that would be the worst and most embarrassing thing she could do in a moment like this. Move to the back? No, she needed to stand there next to Lyse and bathe in the glory of their triumph. Too many eyes were on her.

_“Behold the boundless legions,_

_Whose wings embrace the sun,_

_Their fire rains down upon the land,_

_Until their course is run.”_

That… that wasn’t right. The Warrior of Light was no expert on the lyrics of the anthem, but she knew the Ala Mhigans never had “boundless legions” that they praised. The voices became louder, distorted as they neared a level of near screeching. The throbbing in her head transcended into what felt like a dagger being jabbed into the back of her skull, twisted, pulled back, and thrust in again. Wysteria couldn’t stand it any longer and bowed her head, holding it between her hands. Hopefully, no one would take notice and worry.

_“By mercy of Lord Galvus,”_

The Hyur could barely comprehend the words that sunk into her mind like talons. Lord Galvus? As in the Emperor? Wysteria was confused, but she couldn’t focus. The pain was becoming too much. There was a static roaring in her ears, drowning out nearly all sound except the hellish voices. She had to keep herself together a little longer. It had to be over soon.

_“The pride within us all._

_Shall we be granted victory,”_

Opening her eyes again, a film of red covered her vision and she could nearly see the veins of her own eyeballs pulsing. A hand grabbed her arm, and she heard someone speak, a mumble trying to get through the wall of noise that assaulted her, but she could not hear them. The song’s crescendo was building and as it reach its peak, so did the agony as it coursed out from her brain and through her body like fire and levin. 

_“FOR GLORY, GARLEMALD!”_

Her knees buckled as the last verse roared out across the land, signaling an end to the war and the beginning of a new one. Darkness swallowed her and the Warrior of Light knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr > https://wysteria-ffxiv.tumblr.com/  
Been having fun with gpose and post my screenies here. Some are fic related with more to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The world was gone and with the absence of light; the darkness was quick to take its place. The lion’s gluttony knew no bounds. He had devoured and gorged on everything and everyone, including his own. She was all that was left. The last spark of light. The spark was not unscathed, however. Her memories were gone. She knew not her past or who she was. The hunter’s arrival had taken that from her too. He pursued her relentlessly. She tried to hide, but he found her. She ran, but he snapped at her heels. This hell was all she knew. All she was. 

This lion, this shadow that followed her every step was not the void. By the Twelve, she wished it was voidsent that was after her. The voidsent could be killed. This thing? No matter how many times she raised her fists, no matter how many times she flung her chakrams, the monster kept coming, and he only grew stronger. The hunter wanted to consume her, all of her, to make her his. She would not allow it. Fighting and fleeing was all she could do. His assault was non-stop and although she had been doing this for as long as she could remember, she was growing weaker. Her punches did not strike as hard as they once did and her blades missed their mark more often than not. It was only a matter of time until he caught her. 

Once again, she was running. Well, limping was more accurate. The lion had wounded her too badly, and she had no choice but to make a tactical retreat. She feared it wasn’t going to get her very far this time. Blood covered her skin and dripped behind her, leaving an easy trail for him to follow. His fangs had ripped so much flesh from her body that she could see the shiny gleam of bone poking up from her skin. 

How she found the willpower to move, she didn’t know. She wanted to believe it was determination, but that wasn’t entirely true. The spark was terrified, and the lion never forgot to mention how disgusting and weak it made her look. She didn’t give a damn what he thought. Fear kept her alive, but her doubt was growing stronger. Eventually, she was going to bleed out and die. Maybe it would be best to stop and let him eat her. No, she couldn’t. Even if she was too weak to keep up the fight, she wasn’t going to just give herself over to the monster. 

The last spark stumbled and tripped, falling to her hands and knees. She tried to continue on, crawling and pulling herself along the grime, but the ground itself decided to lash out at her. It melted, turning into a pit of tar with an oily sheen that glowed scarlet. Tendrils emerged, wrapping around her arms and legs to trap her down. A roar echoed through the abyss. The lion was coming. He was here. She was going to die. There was no hope of escape, but she tried anyway. The spark wasn’t one to give up just like the lion that stalked her. Still, she was so very tired. The spark wanted to rest, to fall into the shadows and welcome their sweet embrace. Doubt and exhaustion was winning over fear. 

Orbs of ice blue peered through the darkness, slowly drawing closer. He must have been savoring this moment. His prey had fallen into his trap. The long hunt was almost complete. As he came closer, her body gave her a new burst of adrenaline and the last. Her veins popped out of her skin as she strained to break free of her bindings, tearing muscle and bruising skin in the attempt. The shadows did not give. 

His paws sunk into the muck, and she felt his claws barely drag across her skin in a mocking caress. The lion was huge; a hulking beast of champagne fur and gnashing teeth. That a creature so beautiful and wicked could exist was terrifying. Saliva dripped from his hungry maw and peppered her face as he growled. It took everything in her not to cry. Not like this. It couldn’t end like this. 

_Hear… _Came a muffled but familiar voice. 

A light emerged from her chest, a dim flame that could barely glow. The predator hissed and took a step back. Hydaelyn? Yes! She remembered Her. The spark recalled her memories back as the Warrior of Light. Her name was Wysteria, an adventurer from the Far East that had longed to see the lands of her mother. She’d met the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and through them she discovered her true purpose.

Wysteria tried to call out to the Mother Crystal for aid, but the hunter pounced, attempting to clamp his jaws around her throat. The force submerged them beneath the surface of the tar, sending them into a tumble. Punching, kicking, scratching, and biting. Wysteria was snarling like a rabid animal. Just like him. She could feel his immense joy to see her in such a state. The coarse fur of the lion began to recede and was replaced by ironclad limbs that wrapped around and pinned her arms to her sides. The lion tugged the warrior farther below the surface. The light that had brought her to her senses was fading, becoming only a pinpoint. The moment it vanished, she panicked as the memories she just regained began to slip away from her. Wysteria screamed and squirmed; her back pulled up against his chest plate. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe! The darkness was filling her mouth and nose like water. Her lungs burned and cried out for air. 

“Finally. I have you.” he spoke for the first time. The arms grew tighter around her and inky air bubbles emerged from her mouth as she cried out. The fiend’s hold was crushing. It hurt so much. She wanted to beg him to stop, but only gurgles came out. "‘Twould seem I misjudged our last battle. A marvelous fight we shared, but I see now that it was only a precursor. An opening act. This?“ the lion laughed, shaking with giddiness. "This is far more interesting. ‘Tis a dance unlike any I have partaken in, but I am eager to continue. To where will it lead, I wonder.” 

The Warrior of Light’s movements grew more frantic. If she fell any deeper, she’d never be able to get out. She had to get away, but her captor held fast. “Let us find out together. But first…” she could feel his breath against her ear as he whispered. "As much as I admire your spirit, and would much prefer you continue fighting like the savage mongrel you are, I must ask you to yield. Unfortunate, I know, but you must relent.” he squeezed tighter. How was that even possible? Gods, she just knew he was going to break her in two. Her bones were crunching under his might, and she feared he was going to shatter her rib cage like glass. All she could do was whimper. She had not the strength left to scream. “Give up, beast. Cease your struggles. Rest. Close your eyes and surrender to the depths.” 

The further they sank into the shadows, the colder it became. She was freezing, and she quickly realized the lion was the only source of heat. What kept a monster like him so warm in this layer of hell? His grip lessened, but she didn’t try to escape. Even if she wanted to, her limbs would no longer heed her will. The warrior turned into a limp doll in his hands. Her pain was fading, giving way to numbness. That was far more preferable to the agony she’d endured. Their battle had gone on for ages. She was exhausted and desperately wanted to go to sleep like he asked, to be surrounded by his warmth. It was tempting to listen. She wanted to let go. The lion was tearing down the last barrier.

“Good. Very good.” his thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “You said it once before. I need you to say it again. Listen carefully and repeat after me. Let us get this right the first time, shall we?” he paused for a brief moment. “Zenos,”

So, that’s what he wanted. It was a simple enough request. Obeying him would yield consequences; however, it was hard to deny him when he spoke like that. She would have to find out. Yes, she could remain silent and defy him, but she didn’t want to anymore. It would be easier to listen. It would be less painful to give in like he asked. So much for being stubborn. She had to accept it. He was the hunter, and she was the prey. The chase had been long and hard, but it was over. Her life was his. She wanted to give it to him so that he may live. 

Wysteria knew not how, especially after all the damage that had been wrought to her body, but she was finally able to speak. “Z… Zenos,” 

“I accept…” He gave her the next line. 

Her tongue had problems forming the words as her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He let out a frustrated sigh. His fingers pinched her cheeks together, pursing her lips. The clawed gauntlets dug hard into her skin.

“Say, ‘I accept’”

“I-I... accept…”

Strands of gold draped across her shoulder as he leaned in close. His lips curled into a soft grin against her cheek. 

"You."

_Beloved Daughter…_

Her voice returned, no longer faint but loud and clear. Mother Hydaelyn was not going to let her child be taken. The spark reignited like a dazzling jewel from the Hyur’s heart. One by one, the elemental crystals formed around them as the five pointed rune took shape beneath their feet. The wounds on Wysteria’s body began to mend, and the light shone brighter. This caused the lion to growl and crush her again.

“With haste! We are so close now. Oh so very close, my friend.”

Wysteria glared back at Zenos from over her shoulder, fire gleaming in her eyes. An expression between displeasure and amusement crossed his face before it settled into a frown.

_Hear…_ Hydaelyn called out.

“Say it.” He demanded.

_Feel…_

“Say it. Now!” 

_Think…_

With the last word, the light condensed into a single focused point before it exploded from the woman, forcing the wicked lion and his darkness away. The world returned as it once was. The aetherial sea of the Mother Crystal lay before her, sparkling and bright with a thousand stars. Its warmth welcomed her home, and she was taken in by Her embrace.

*****************************

The Warrior of Light opened her eyes and was immediately met with the spinning scenery of a bedroom. It was too much for her stomach, and she started to gag, startling someone awake as she did so. Before they even had a chance to speak, Wysteria leaned over the side of the cot and puked, scarcely missing Alphinaud in the process. The young Elezen scrambled to grab her ebony locks and pull them back away from her face. A turquoise liquid gushed from the adventurer’s mouth and it glittered like gemstones upon the stone. Thankfully, it wasn’t carpet. 

“... Sorry.” Wysteria croaked out. 

“‘Tis fine! ‘Tis fine. There is no need for you to apologize.” Alphinaud said. The Elezen helped Wysteria lie back down and covered her with a blanket. “Praise the Twelve you’re awake!” 

Her dizziness began to slow, and she was able to see Alphinaud somewhat clearly. His eyes were watering, and she felt a pang of guilt. It reminded her of his reaction when Estinien awoke after securing his freedom from Nidhogg. The warrior reached out, hand quivering from weakness as she placed it on his head and ruffled his snowy locks like she did with her little brother. After all the trials and tribulations they had been through, he was pretty much family. Normally, he’d object to such affection. 

_I must have really scared him. _she thought. _What happened? _

A gleam of metallic blue caught her eye, and she realized she had thick mittens taped down over her hands. The Warrior of Light quirked an eyebrow at the teenager. 

“Ah, yes. The mittens. You were, ahem, scratching yourself all over.” 

That didn’t sound good. After the nightmare she just had, however, she could easily see why she might have done that. Just thinking about it made her tremble. Zenos was the insatiable lion, chasing her without cease. _It was just a bad dream. None of it was real._ She had to remind herself. 

“Do you recall what happened before you fell unconscious?” Alphinaud asked.

The last thing she remembered was following Lyse out of the menagerie after defeating the viceroy. Then she was struck with an intense headache, one unlike any she had suffered before. The effect was similar to the Echo, but magnified. On a scale from one to ten, the pain had been an eleven. Everything from there was fuzzy. Wysteria shrugged.

“One moment.” the boy rushed to the door and flung it open. “Y’shtola! Krile! She’s awake!”

The Warrior of Light heard far more shuffling than just two people beyond the door. The walls muffled the voices, but she could tell there was a crowd gathering outside. 

“Shoo! Move you lot. Let them through. I know you’re concerned, but the last thing she needs is to be hovered over by everyone in the Rising Stones. Just be patient.” 

That sounded like Tataru. Thank the gods. She couldn’t handle a dozen eyes on her right now. The two Scions made it into the room and hurried over to her bedside. 

“Can you hear me?” Y’shtola asked.

Wysteria nodded. 

“Dizzy?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t often that the Warrior of Light talked, but she was very soft-spoken.

The Miqo’te grimaced as she turned her attention to the mess on the floor. “Still vomiting up aether, I see, but I do not see blood this time. That is a relief.” stretching out her hand, she summoned one of her minions: a tiny, sentient broom like the ones the Warrior of Light had seen in Madam Matoya’s cave. It cleaned up the blue bile with a few sweeps and vanished. Y’shtola began to test her vitals. “Your fever is gone, but it may return.” she said as she pressed her fingers against the Hyur’s wrist, checking her pulse. “That you were able to awaken at all is no less than a miracle. I have never seen such an advanced case of aether sickness.”

Aether sickness was something Wysteria vaguely heard about when she first arrived in Eorzea. Other than that she didn’t know much about it. Well, besides knowing that it made her feel like absolute garbage in that moment. 

“H-how long-” Wysteria broke into a cough and realized just how dry and sore her throat was. Alphinaud poured her a glass of water and she was eager to chug it down. The coolness helped soothe the burning the aether had left behind.

“You have been in a coma more or less for about a moon.” He said.

The Hyur’s eyes grew so wide that they appeared as tiny dots. She nearly spit out her drink as the news hit her like a fat chocobo._ A moon?! _She was speechless.

“You are not out of the woods yet, I fear.” Krile spoke up, raising her Sharlayan goggles to her eyes. She flipped a few switches, and the device hummed to life. “Your aether levels are still dangerously high.” Krile shook her head. “I’m shocked you are not paralyzed. Anyone else would be, to put it bluntly, a husk. The Echo must have protected you from the full effect of the poisoning. I see no other explanation.”

“Will she fully recover?” Alphinaud asked.

“‘Tis too soon to tell.” Y’shtola said. That wasn’t comforting to hear, and the Highlander gripped the hem of the blanket. The conjurer looked back to the warrior. “Witnesses say that the primal took you above the clouds and disappeared. Can you explain what happened?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” she said, releasing a sigh before she continued. “Zenos used the Resonant to control Shinryu— to become Shinryu.” 

Alphinaud gawked and he started to question further, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t the first time they had encountered a person taking the form of a primal. However, Ysayle had been a child of light. Zenos yae Galvus was not. To learn that even a reproduction of the Echo could give one the ability to bend eikons to their will was unsettling. 

Wysteria took another sip of water and cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how he did it, but he took us to another plane of existence. Everything was blue and shimmered like— oh.”

“And there is our answer.” Y’shtola said. “The very air of that plane must have contained exponentially high amounts of aether. ‘Tis a wonder you did not pass out sooner from the overexposure.”

“It makes your defeat of Zenos and the primal all the more impressive.” Alphinaud said.

The Warrior of Light looked down at her covered hands. Heh. It was a wonder she wasn’t dead. To think she could have died after winning merely due to aether poisoning. That would’ve been a sad way to go out for a fighter like herself. Perhaps that’s what Zenos had intended all along. Then again, probably not. That wasn’t his style. He didn’t play completely fair, but he still had his own list of weird standards on how one should conduct the hunt. She winced as she took another sip of water before reaching up to massage her throat. It felt so raw and her voice sounded worse than a Poro Rogo.

“Your screaming was nearly non stop.” the Lalafell said. “We were forced to place you into a deeper sleep so you could find peace. I do not know if it helped, but your crying ceased and we could only hope.” it didn’t, but Wysteria did not say otherwise. “Nightmares are normal for those afflicted with aether sickness, but yours must have been especially horrible to make you wail so.” 

Horrible was putting it lightly. Wysteria didn’t want to think about it. She started to take the mittens off, but Y’shtola stopped her. “I know you must feel ridiculous, but I implore you to keep them on. Just in case.” The Miqo’te said, giving her a sympathetic look.

The Warrior of Light held back a groan. It was embarrassing and made her feel like a baby, but if it was for her own good she’d put up with it. At least no one else had seen her like this, yet. 

Y’shtola and Krile ran a number of tests on her before she was allowed to relax again. Even though she wasn’t hungry, she forced down some soup that was brought to her along with a dose of medicine. To Wysteria’s dismay, her body was eager to return to sleep. If she truly had been asleep for a moon, she’d had more than enough; that fact made no difference to her body, who desired it all the same. 

The healers encouraged her to rest before the Scions departed the room, giving Wysteria her privacy. _A moon... thirty days. Kami forefend. _She mused, blowing out air between her lips. 

For a while, she stared at the ceiling, counting the curves and bends in the wooden panels until she could hold her eyes open no longer. Wysteria began to drift back to sleep when she was roused by a noise. Clink clink. The sound of armored footsteps. Her eyes flew back open, and she scanned the room. No one was there, and the second she was going to brush it off, she caught something dark move just beyond her line of sight. The Warrior of Light could sense a presence lurking behind the headboard. Her stomach dipped and tingled with anxiety. Here she was: hardly able to move, hands bound in cloth, and no weapon nearby. She wanted to spin around and confront whoever was there, but her body protested against such sudden movement. With no other choice, she slowly turned and was met with the plain, smooth surface of a block. Oh. She forgot the bed was pushed up against the wall. No one could be standing over her from that position, unless they were a phantom. If her throat didn’t hurt so badly, she would have chuckled. Wysteria felt silly for overreacting, and she concluded that it was the fault of the aether sickness. No one was going to hurt her here. She was safe in the Rising Stones, surrounded by friends and allies. Relieved, she settled back into bed and soon fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the Royal Menagerie, the Ala Mhgian sun was burning bright and hot down upon her skin. There was enough of a breeze to help keep her cool and for that she was thankful. She never liked the heat. How the natives could stand living here in this wasteland, the Warrior of Light didn’t know. Her mother had spoken so fondly of Gyr Abania, and when the adventurer had arrived with the Alliance after taking Castrum Oriens, it had disappointed her. This was the land her mother gushed about? This was what the Resistance was fighting for? The Empire had taken over a pile of dirt and rocks. If it were her, she would have thanked them for it and gone off to live somewhere better. 

She knew it was disrespectful to her heritage to think like that. The Highlander clan hadn’t settled here for the environment, after all. Gyr Abania was blessed; it was the promised land. Rhalgar the Destroyer had guided her kin here at the end of the Fifth Astral Era, when all the world was flooded. 

Ala Mhigans weren’t meager farmers and artisans; the earth wasn’t generous enough for that. They were a nation born of blood. Only a barren country like this could forge such a strong and resilient people. Wysteria would never call that side of her weak. Hell, it’s probably where her lust and enjoyment for battle came from. It flowed through her veins and beckoned her to adventure. 

Besides trying to “save the world from the eikons” by conquering, the Empire must have desired these fearless, savage, warriors to be absorbed into their own army. That was the country’s real treasure. With fighters like that, taking over the rest of Eorzea would be a cinch. A hundred years ago during the Autumn War, it took the combined might of the Alliance to take down one city-state. A city-state with limited resources, at that. That had been Ala Mhigo. 

It didn’t play out like that for the Imperials. Being the Empire, they had to beat the spirit out of their new subjects, and thus destroyed the very source of the Ala Mhigan’s fighting poweress. By Rhalgar, Garleans were so stupid. She didn’t doubt that they had been surprised that their Hyur and Roegadyn soldiers were just as weak and plain as any other “savage”. It was no different from a child breaking a toy intentionally and then crying about. 

The Warrior of Light sat down in the flowerbed and plucked a pink daisy. She rolled the stem between her fingers, feeling of the moisture within before she took a sniff. The metallic scent of blood met her nose, and she gasped. Wysteria realized this was the spot where he fell.

“Taking a moment to stop and smell the flowers, are we?”

Wysteria didn’t answer nor did she turn to look. This was her quiet time, and she would not let him steal that away from her. She was enjoying this dream, and yet it seemed determined to shift into a nightmare. She wished she could stop thinking about him. Why else would he be here if he wasn’t on her mind?

“Come. Entertain me. After how our last bout ended, you owe me that much.” His voice held spite. 

The warrior only vaguely recalled her last dream to her relief. Several days had passed since then and the aether sickness had done a number on her short-term memory; she was struggling to remember the most basic things when she was awake. Y’shtola had assured her it was a normal symptom. 

So far, this dream was different from the others. It was lucid. She was aware that none of this was real.

“‘Twas a pitiful climax. That you would resort to calling on that overgrown crystal... pathetic.” 

That word again. Oh, how she hated that word. The Highlander clenched her jaw. If she wasn’t trying so hard to ignore him, she would have balled with laughter. She didn’t owe him anything; she was not scared of him, and she was not pathetic. Zenos must have forgotten that he was dead. He needed to go crawl back into his grave or go through the incinerator again. 

“You’re dead.” she said softly. She tried to keep her voice void of emotion. The Warrior of Light didn’t want him to know that he succeeded in antagonizing her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You are nothing but a bad memory. Begone.” Wysteria closed her eyes and took a deep breath before trying to ease into a meditative trance. If she focused hard enough maybe she could make him disappear. 

Zenos continued to exist, much to her dismay. “Such lies. I am your most treasured memory. Your equal. Even now you grieve for me, grieving for all the battles you think we shall never have. It is why you cling to me. It is why I stand before you now. Do you believe I am here of my own volition? A ghost come to haunt you?” 

Wysteria nodded, still refusing to look at him.

“Heh heh... No, my friend. You called me. I merely answered your plea.” he suddenly barked out a laugh. “Does that make me your god? Am I your summoned eikon? Your salvation?” the Warrior of Light released a quivering breath, struggling to hold back a growl. The bastard was too good at this. He knew just how to twist her arm. She’d expect no less from a master manipulator like him. “‘Tis clear to me now that surviving our battle was the consolation. Imagine: you will carry on in this hollow existence and forever remain unfulfilled, desperately searching for another that sets your blood ablaze as I have. You never will.” his next words came out as a menacing purr. “Only I can make your heart race like that. Only I can give you the thrills you seek. Only I can satisfy that insurmountable bloodlust so like my own!”

A shiver went through Wysteria. Her doubt manifested in many ways, but never like this. The aether sickness sure was taking its toll. “Delusions of a madman.” She whispered.

“Oh? Then prove me wrong. Deny me.” He challenged.

The scraping of metal met her ears as a blade was pulled from a scabbard. The Hyur gripped harder onto the flower. Kami, why? Couldn’t they just let her have one minute to herself? Perhaps they put this upon her because they knew that wasn’t entirely true. Wysteria told herself that she wanted to sit and admire the daisies, and yet she could not resist the temptation. To re-experience their battles, to be filled with adrenaline and the rush of blood, to indulge in the thrill of dancing on the razor’s edge between life and death, and to take command of her fear was so much fun. Conflicted, she decided to let fate decide. The Warrior of Light began plucking the petals off the flower.

_I want to fight._

The prince began to move, his massive armor clinking which each step.

_I don’t want to fight._

He circled to face her, and she could see his boots in her peripheral vision as she remained fully focused on the vibrant bloom.

_I want to fight._

The flat edge of his blade touched her chin; its tip just barely poked her flesh and caused a small amount of blood to trickle down her neck.

_I don’t want to fight._

Pressure forced her to look up as the katana pushed in deeper. Wysteria already knew he was a monster of a man, but down here on the ground she felt like a flea. Her eyes met his; they were cold but held a hint of mirth. He already knew that she couldn’t resist. They were— he thought they were the same. The Warrior of Light hated that he was right. Her body wanted to relax, but her heart screamed for battle. It was true. She could not deny him and the final petal agreed. 

_I want to fight!_

A smirk touched the prince’s lips. The last petal fluttered into the palm of Wysteria’s hand; it blazed like a ring of fire and split into two chakrams. The warrior rolled backwards away from his blade and kicked forward with both feet, knocking his weapon up just long enough to slip from his grasp before he swung back down. The earth and stone crumbled under his might, and the dancer was forced back by a shock wave. 

“Yes… yes! At last, the ferocious beast awakens. I knew you could not resist your true nature.” he smiled and held out his hand. “My friend. My enemy. Come and let us embrace violence as only true warriors can!” Ame-no-Habakiri was returned to its sheath and Zenos waited as he continued to hold on to the hilt as a samurai would.

If he wanted a beast the Warrior of Light would give him all that and more. What better way to rid one’s self of negative energy than by literally beating it out of your own head? That’s what she assumed this was, a conglomeration of her darkest thoughts in the form of the very man that wouldn’t stop haunting her. 

The fighters rushed towards one another. Their weapons clashed, making their steel groan and spray sparks. The force of their immense speed caused the flowers to be ripped from the soil and swirl around them in a cyclone. Excitement flushed through Wysteria’s chest, and a giggle was building up in her throat. Gods, they had just begun, and her spirit was already singing. Her mouth formed into a hard line to prevent herself from grinning, but her eyes betrayed her. It was impossible to hide her feelings. The Warrior of Light loved this. She loved fighting this man with the skill that rivaled her own. Zenos was a raving lunatic, and yet he understood a side of her like no one else could. Warriors like them needed few to no words to bond. Their actions spoke for them. 

Zenos met her strike for strike, knocking away her discs as she pranced and twirled out of reach. Rotating her weapons on her fingertips, she tossed them at every position and angle she could think of to try to get an edge over her opponent. The most difficult part was finishing the last few steps of her special dances. The viceroy caught on quickly that certain moves allowed her to perform other actions. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become too predictable, and so she had to rely on a lot of feints and trick shots to keep ahead of him. 

_Count the steps. Keep to the beat. Don’t forget the fans. Watch out for the other swords and destroy them quickly.   
_

Her laughter finally slipped through as she started literally spinning circles around him. Combat wise, she still hadn’t landed a solid hit on Zenos, but he had not scored one on her either. It was almost like she was mocking him with every step and that’s why she adored the art of Kriegstanz. You could fight, inspire, and feel pretty while doing it! Not to mention, it might make your more airheaded enemies confused or underestimate you. Of course, she hadn’t had that effect on the legatus. He gave her no advantage, attacking just as hard and fast regardless of what discipline she used. 

The tension in the air grew heavier as electricity buzzed around the Garlean, creating a pool that crackled beneath his feet. The warm up was over. Zenos didn’t give her half a second to react, and the Warrior of Light was in too close. She tried to sprint out of range of his oncoming attack, but he charged after her and came down upon the dancer in one fell swoop. To the common eye, it looked like Zenos had only swung his sword once. The blast from his concentrated slash sent the woman flying backwards in a burst of energy. A dozen cuts erupted from Wysteria’s body and she seized up in pain. She had a vague idea where she was going to land and braced herself for the pain to come. Glass shattered as she burst through the window of the palace, slicing her up even further. Rather than crashing into the throne room like she expected, she found herself in the wilderness of Yanxia. There was no consistency.

Wysteria didn’t have time to assess her injuries. Zenos was right on top of her, katana aimed for her chest. She tumbled out of the way just in time and scampered back to her feet. The sword sunk down into the dirt and he easily yanked it back out. 

“Tsk. Do not dare disappoint me, woman. You shall regret you ever drew breath if you do.” 

“I don’t intend to.” Wysteria switched her crystals. It was time to try another strategy, and she took on the power of the monk. Her body flashed with brilliant light as her gear changed from her dancer attire to a lilac cheongsam. The warrior settled into Opo-Opo form and flexed her fingers. “I’m going to take that head from your shoulders and hang it from the gates of Garlemald!” 

“So violent!” he began walking towards her, his eyes alight with that crazed gleam. Zenos took his sweet time, a casual stride no different from a leisurely stroll. “Good. Use those claws to desecrate me however your savage heart desires.” the Warrior of Light charged in shoulder first but only met air. It amazed her how fast he could move and how little effort it took him. As she got in close, she ducked and pivoted on her heels to avoid his strikes. Every clear swish of his blade reminded her just how close she was to death. Her heart leaped, drunk on the risk. “That is if you can sink them in. You’ve yet to lay a hand on me, hero. What are you waiting for?” 

_An opening. _She half wanted to say, but he’d given her plenty. The problem was that she wasn’t fast enough to reach them in time. His current fighting style was contradictory, both swift and lazy. Wysteria would blame it on the bizarreness of her dream if that wasn’t how he actually fought, at least when he was— her face suddenly flushed bright red with anger. He was acting like he did when he was bored with his opponent. 

Crystal lotuses appeared around her and burst into flames as she called upon more chakra. Weaving trails of fire that flared from her hands and feet, the Warrior of Light punched harder and moved faster, quickly gaining more speed. She spun around to give him a proper dragon kick to the face, but Zenos caught her by the ankle. Wysteria lost her balance and was airborne once more. She cried out in surprise as the legatus whipped her around with one swing. Wysteria rights herself in the air just in time to plant her feet against what was now a stone tablet. A familiar violet meteor was carved into its surface. As she pushed off the stone, she realized their location had changed again. The ancient statue of Rhalgar towered above them. This was the first place she and Zenos had fought. This was where she had been defeated. She wouldn’t let there be a repeat, not even in a dream. 

Wysteria and Zenos were becoming little more than blurs upon the battlefield. Since this wasn’t real, the monk could admire their fight for what it was. They complimented one another nicely. The way the Garlean moved, able to turn his body on a dime, Wysteria thought he would be a fantastic dancer or monk if he tried. Zenos yae Galvus as a dancer. That’d be one show she wouldn’t miss. The outfit with his fair complexion and hair would look stunning on him. 

The fantasy took up too much of her attention, causing her to get nicked on the arm. The Warrior of Light gritted her teeth, silently cursing herself before finding the perfect moment to take her revenge. The feel of her fist colliding into his cheek was so satisfying. The crown prince skidded backwards and gave his head a brisk shake. He looked up at his enemy and grinned. 

“Mm... Yes, just so, my prey.” 

Gods, he was a masochist. They continued for hours, exchanging more blows, cuts, and bruises. The Warrior of Light was panting and so was the crown prince; although hers was far more exaggerated. Her heart was getting a workout, and her body ached for it, but it felt good, a satisfying pain. The longer they fought, she realized the Garlean barely showed his exhaustion. He remained the perfect soldier: graceful, controlled, and precise; they were traits Wysteria envied him for.

Zenos suddenly reared his sword back and cut the Hyur across the chest, reminiscent to their first battle. Wysteria fell to one knee, wiping the blood from her face. Zenos planted his feet and sheated Ame-no-Habakiri as a swirl of energy began to build around his body. The sword revolver whirled to life. 

“A good attempt, but still disappointing. I am ending this.” He said.

No! Wysteria stared him down. He thought this was over. How cute. Her mouth broke into a wicked grin. That strike had given her the last push she needed to build up the aether of her limit break. The Warrior of Light got back on her feet and took a deep breath. She called upon the power she had gathered throughout their battle. One by one, she began to open the chakra gates of light and shadow. Emerald electricity pulsed around her as she drew her fist back. Her palm burned as it grew brighter with concentrated aether. The viceroy’s power continued to surge alongside hers, causing the environment to wave and distort like ripples on a pool.

With a roar, the Warrior of Light punched forward just as Zenos unleashed his own attack. Final Heaven smashed with Concentrativity. The sound was deafening, and the monk could not even hear her own thoughts. Both were consumed by the flare of unleashed magic as it devoured all of Rhalgar’s Reach in a blinding light. Wysteria felt her flesh being burned and ripped asunder. She crossed her arms to block as much energy as she could, but it was too much. A huge force pushed her off her feet and one of her arms was completely torn off, vanishing into the white void. There was so much happening that she didn’t even notice the pain of losing a limb. Wysteria tumbled and rolled until finally coming to a stop, lying on her belly. When she came to, the air was still crackling with aether. Rhalgar’s Reach was gone, replaced with the throne room of Ala Mhigo’s palace. 

Wysteria saw Zenos across from her, face to the floor. He appeared just as damaged as she was: his armored was broken and charred, and his crimson cloak was in tatters. The Warrior of Light let out a yelp as a metal-covered arm clattered to the stone in front of her. A snicker met her ears and Zenos lifted his head, giving her that insane smile where the whites of his eyes took up more space than his irises. That was his arm. They had both lost an arm. She was amazed that was the worst of their injuries. Even more so that she wasn’t hurting. The adventurer found herself chuckling at him, herself, and this whole bizarre situation. The warriors rose to their feet and laughed. It was heartwarming at first, but it soon devolved into hysteria. It wasn’t that funny, but they cackled all the same. Had anyone else been watching, they would have likely thought they were witnessing two souls descend into madness.

Their amusement eventually subsided, and Wysteria smiled up at Zenos. “You know, maybe in another life we could have been friends: sparring together, pushing each other to our absolute limits, going off on wild adventures— The world wouldn’t know how to handle us. We’d stop evil before it even got started!” Zenos remained silent and aloof. “You’re just an ideal. I know Zenos is really dead. This must be my way of coping with it, or the aether sickness is giving me weird dreams again, or both.” her brows knit together as she continued. “Watching you die bothered me more than I thought it would. I won’t miss the horrible things you did, but I’ll miss this weird connection we had. As insane as it is.” 

He smirked ever so slightly. “Because you are a woman after my own heart.”

The Warrior of Light looked down at her feet. “In some ways, but not at the core.”

“Like me, your desire for a challenge is what drives you. It dictates every aspect of your life.” his icy eyes narrowed. “What more is there?”

Wysteria scoffed and jerked her head back up to glare at him. “There is more to me than that. I have other interests besides fighting, you know. Like dance, and theater, and fluffy critters. I really like animals, Zenos! Don’t you have a hobby that doesn’t involve fighting? Do you like cats?”

“No.” Came the most deadpan word ever uttered on the face of Hydaelyn.

“Aww, why not?” 

Wysteria went off into a ramble, and in doing so, revealed who she really was under that shy and quiet demeanor. When she opened up and allowed herself to relax, she was a bubbly person. Zenos had not seen this side of Wysteria, and he definitely looked confused. About as confused as Wysteria was when Zenos had shown his true colors. Few knew the Warrior of Light well enough for her to get that comfortable. Most saw her as the silent adventurer who would just nod and rarely speak unless spoken to, which was usually true to be fair. Wysteria didn’t have a lot to say. People didn’t ask. People liked to talk about themselves and their problems, and she didn’t mind listening. Plus, she felt rude interrupting people. Half the time, she’d try to say something and get talked over. She eventually just gave up. It was easy to be aggressive in combat. It wasn’t easy to be assertive in social conversations. Anxiety always found a way to hold its power over her. However, this was a dream. She could do whatever she wanted here! 

The longer she babbled on, the higher Zenos quirked an eyebrow. Wysteria had never seen that kind of expression on him before. She just went on and on and on... “They’re so cute, and fluffy, and you can squeeze them, and love on them, but they’re also jerks, and knock your stuff off the table, or spaz out for no reason whatsoever.” The Warrior of Light had never imagined she’d have a dream where she’d be talking to her nemesis about her love for felines. “You know, you’re kind of like a cat, Z. Cool nickname, right?” the Garlean prince stared her down. The Hyur grinned and then stuck out her tongue. “Right, back to the cat comparison—” 

She was interrupted as Zenos drew “The Swell” and thrust it towards her. The monk let out a squeal and jumped back, sucking in her belly to avoid the blow. That was too close. She had to stop relaxing around this guy. That shouldn’t be difficult, but it was. Wysteria was comfortable around dream Zenos. The situation had been too serious in real life, but she could tease the prince in this illusion with no consequences. She could just pour her heart out with no embarrassments. 

“That was rude! Anyway, you’re pretty and your hair must be soft and nice to pet. I mean, it looks like it would be. But you’re also a jerk. You were so calm and indifferent when we first met, and then out of nowhere—bam— you just went bonkers! Totally bonkers. Although, I suppose you were always bonkers.”

“If you say that word one more—” His right eye started to twitch. She’d never seen him do that before either.

“You were all like, look at my dragon of pure violence.” she spoke in a deep dramatic voice. “Oooh, scary! Are you going to kill it savage? Huh? Are you going to kill it because you’re s-s-s-savvvvvvvaggggeeee? I know you’re going to kill it! Look at me! I’m Shinryu! Rawr! The power of the gods are mine to command!” She giggled. She saw no reason why she couldn’t let her silly side out here in her wonderland.

“Are you finished rambling? You’re boring me.” It was the closest she’d heard him sound to annoyed.

“Yes.” she lowered her fist. Her single fist since the other one was fried up in the combined limit breaks or shot to the moon. Thank the gods it wasn’t painful. There was no sense in questioning dream logic. “I’m done. Thank you for the fight.”

“You’re walking away from our battle? Why?”

“Because I…” Wysteria blinked. She was at a loss for words, but she eventually stuttered her way to some kind of coherent sentence. “Well, you don’t have, you know— and I also… we both lost an arm! I think that’s a good sign to end it there.”

“‘Tis only a minor inconvenience.” He rolled his eyes before striding over to his decapitated limb.

“A minor inconvenience?!” She gawked.

The Garlean placed the end of his arm up against his bleeding socket and jabbed it back in. The sound of ligments and meat latching back to bone could be heard, and Wysteria cringed. “Regardless of what may come, a hunter must learn to adapt. Are you so incompetent that you need both arms to fight?” to her surprise, the arm connected and remained in its proper place. Zenos rolled his shoulder. “And this is your so-called dream, correct? Should you not have the power to do as you like?”

“Um, I suppose?” She said.

“Then you have no reason to stop. I will give you five seconds to prepare. Use it wisely.” he retrieved his favored katana as he began counting. “One.”

“I…” She held up a finger.

“Two.”

She gave her head a firm shake, causing her pigtails to swing. 

“Three.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not fighting anymore. It’s out of my system.”

“Four.”

“We’re done here. Goodbye. I’m going to find something else to do in this dream.” 

“Five.”

The Warrior of Light began to walk away, planning to leave the Garlean alone so that she could go exploring. There had to be more fun to experience in this dream and she was going to find it! Wysteria was brought to a sudden halt before she was shoved up face first against the wall. Her cheek was scuffed by the rough sandstone. Pain. Horrible, horrible pain flushed through her abdomen and a gush of blood forced its way out her mouth. She looked down and winced as she caught the gleam of Zenos’s sword poking out of her stomach. The bastard had got her from behind. The Warrior of Light stood there in shock; her mind locked up. Every inch of her began to hurt, including the damage left behind from the limit break. It all hit her at once. 

“Fool.” He ripped the blade out, spun the woman around to face him and jabbed it straight back in. She was trapped between him and the wall, literally a rock and a hard place.

“W-we… but, I was done…” She gasped.

“I was not,” He replied. There wasn’t a hint of regret in his voice.

“Cheater...” Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

“Cheater?” he scoffed and gave his sword a harsh twist, causing her to cough. “That you would use such a childish term to refer to me is appalling. How can a bloodthirsty savage like you be so… innocent? Or are you simply an imbecile? ‘Tis sickening how sweetly you act. You remind me of those tiny, desert, foxes that run all over Ala Mhigo, yapping and running about like idiots. I am not amused. Renounce this ruse at once, or you will suffer.” 

The woman sobbed and wrapped her fingers around the blood-stained metal, trying to force it out. Even with one hand, she still put up a good fight in her attempt to escape, and Zenos had to struggle to keep her impaled. “I-it’s not a ruse!” She nearly gurgled on the last word as more of her life essence was hacked up. 

Zenos did not like that answer. He followed up on his promise. Power flowed through his blade, intense and hot; it caused the Warrior of Light such immense pain that she forgot to scream. The throne room began to fade, giving way to a familiar darkness. The whites of his eyes were consumed by shadow as his irises glowed bright red. He raised his free hand, and it melted into a tarry substance before taking the shape of a monstrous claw. A scarlet aura throbbed around it and the Warrior of Light shivered. Without warning, he grabbed her face, completely covering it. A hoarse scream erupted from her mouth as agony consumed her senses. It was like he was taking his nails and raking them across her brain, stealing away her mind. 

“Hold still, wretch.” He ordered, and the anguish increased tenfold. 

Fire was running through her veins. Getting hit in the face with meteor couldn’t be as bad as this. Wysteria did not comply with his demand, scratching at him in whatever manner she could. Her hand was just out of reach of this angelic features, a beautiful face she wanted to tear to shreds. This torture continued for what felt like an eternity until finally he released her. She slumped forward, sobbing, and Zenos scoffed.

“Your control over your gift is weak. You are nothing to me here, but you may yet grow.” the needle like digits reverted back to their true form. “Still, that does not explain why I could not overcome you before. I had you within my grasp and you managed to escape.” he mused. “I am positive that my strength far exceeds yours with the Resonant. Puzzling. I will assume that crystal’s interference was a fluke and try again. However, I do not believe we have recovered enough strength to make a second attempt so soon. A pity, but I can wait.” 

A frustrated sigh passed the prince’s lips, and he drummed his fingers against Wysteria’s shoulder. Nothing he said was making sense to her. The Resonant? That horrible, gods awful pain was the Resonant!? With her head pounding like it was, she didn’t comprehend exactly what he was saying. What she did know was that she had to get Zenos away from her. The Highlander attempted to impale herself further onto his sword just so she could reach his face. If she could break his big, damn nose and shatter it into a thousand pieces, she’d be a little satisfied. She wanted revenge for this humiliation. Her skull was promptly shoved into the wall and she saw stars. The Warrior of Light snarled.

“‘Twould seem I owe you an apology.” Zenos said. “Be grateful, savage. You are the first to receive such an honor from me. Alas, you were indeed honest. You are not playing the fool just to test my patience. You simply are. I loathe you a little knowing I was defeated by an utter, annoying, dumbass, but worry not. ‘Tis only a fraction, my dear. Only a fraction.” he chuckled and stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away. His eyes were that cool blue once more, as beautiful and serene as the sky. The Hyur wished he wouldn’t taunt her. If he was going to be cruel, she didn’t want these confusing signals added in for spite. He cupped her chin. “Of all the beasts on this star, you hold the most value to me, my dear friend.” Zenos smiled. It was the same expression he’d worn before taking his own life. The same smile that made her heart ache for him. “You are precious, Wysteria.” 

The Warrior of Light took back everything she said to him earlier. They could not be friends. Not in this world or the next. She hated him. She hated him so much. Dream Zenos, nightmare Zenos, dead Zenos— she hated all of him! She wasn’t an idiot. He was toying with her, mocking how weak that smile made her feel. She wouldn’t fall for it. But, kami forefend, her name upon his lips was a beautiful sound. Still, how dare he use her name? He had no right to use it. Zenos didn’t get that privilege. 

“As compensation, allow me to explain why you are in such a sad predicament.” he started. “Foremost, yes, you conceded the battle. However, your concession does not mean I am obliged to accept. A hunter does not yield to his prey. We may spare our target temporarily if we see fit, play with our food, let them grow fat, but we finish,” he gave his sword another twist to emphasize the word, and Wysteria groaned. “What we started. You do not simply get to walk away from me.” he leaned in to hiss in her ear. “We will fight, and we will fight ‘til we are but mangled piles of flesh upon the soil, until I feel alive... until I am satisfied!” 

Her teeth were chattering. “F-friends don’t... They don’t… gurk!” She couldn’t finish, spitting up more blood.

“I am your friend. That is why I was merciful enough to teach you this lesson. I am your enemy. That is why I attacked you with your back turned. I gave you fair warning. Remember that.” in one brutal motion, he ripped the katana from Wysteria, flinging visceral into the air. “Lest you suffer this mistake again.”

The warrior slid down the wall, a flood of crimson and entrails soaking her back and front. She fell and landed in a bed of flowers as the scenery changed back to the Royal Menagerie. Her vision began fading in and out. Color withered to gray, leaving only a hint of red. Zenos knelt down next to her. 

“You’re... you’re mean.” She whimpered. There was far more she wanted to call him, but that’s all her dying mind could grasp.

To her surprise, Zenos gave her an incredulous look and tilted his head. Did he find that so surprising or was it something else that made him react that way? Whatever. She didn’t care. She just wanted to die.

The Warrior of Light opened her mouth to say more, but it wasn’t her voice that emerged. Her gaze was drawn to his lips, and they mirrored her own. “This feeling. So dark… so cold… this… Is this death?”

Light bloomed and covered their surroundings, leaving only the Garlean prince untouched. The last thing she saw was Zenos baring his teeth and wincing as he placed a hand to his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter ventures into suicidal themes.

The pulse of a heartbeat, a clear sign that the Warrior of Light knew all too well. The Echo stole her away and submerged her into the memories of another. Vague sensations flowed through her, almost haunting. She would call them emotions, but they were so muted, so gray; She hardly felt anything at all. It was like she wanted desperately to feel something but was physically incapable; bound in heavy chains, unable to truly breathe. Then a sudden, exhilarating bliss filled her chest, or rather, _his _chest. 

*************************

In a glow of wind aether, Zenos yae Galvus fell from the sky and crashed into the earth like a meteor. When he came to, he blindly grabbed for Ame-no-Habakiri, coating the flowers beneath him in blood as he coughed. Vermillion streams dribbled from his dry lips and down his chin. Ha. He was bleeding. He could bleed. He could be harmed. That wonderful, radiant beast had torn him to ribbons with her fists and blades. The Eikon Slayer had not disappointed. Zenos laughed, and his ribs ached to his delight. The pain was wonderful. 

“Hah... hah... hah. The hunter has indeed become the hunted.” He said.

The heavens were painted in a lovely shade of orange and gold as the sun dipped below the horizon; Zenos looked up and admired its beauty in a way he never could before. He ignored the worthless pests that had invaded this private time with his new friend. This was their moment. His moment. How dare they—no matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change how he felt. His chest fluttered, his throat grew tight, and his eyes burned. How odd. This was alien to him. He had felt snippets of this sensation before their battle; and that alone had caused him to act more expressive than usual, but now they had been amplified tenfold. How beautiful and divine their dance had been. It was a tale for the ages.

This was true emotion. Everything he had done, suffering through a lifetime of boredom, it was all worth it just for this: this single moment of truly being alive.

“And yet… there is only joy… transcendent joy that I have never known. How invigorating, how… pure this feeling.” He said.

“Is that what this was all about? All this meaningless death and destruction? So you could feel something?!” The Resistance leader cried.

As if an insignificant worm like her could understand. He had nothing. Nothing at all inside him but a ravenous void; a lion that wanted to devour the world in its desperate need to fill it. Zenos could not be sated. He had tried. He wanted to feel, but it eluded him. Damnit, it’s all he ever wanted for as long as he could remember. Engaging in violence and high risk games allowed him to feel a drop of those emotions he yearned for. When he discovered this, he became obsessed with the search for individuals whose skills would rival his own. Thus, his desire for the hunt was born. 

Observing his prey, he learned that hatred and rage pushed the common man to turn into a bloodthirsty beast. All he needed to do was draw it out, pressing and prodding until one worthy of his attention lunged from the shadows. The wait had been long, but he had found her— a weak pup fit for nothing when they first met that grew into the animal that became his reflection.

“Meaningless? Men die that others may live. Those who survive are stronger for it.” He looked at the woman with a dull expression, as if what he said was common knowledge.

Survival of the fittest. Natural selection dictated their lives from birth. That was the game and one he had mastered. At their core, men were base creatures, but they had one thing he did not. They could feel. They could experience life in a way he could not. They could find joy and purpose. It wasn’t fair. The common swine did not suffer this numbness that infected every fiber of his being. 

It didn’t bother Zenos if he caught others in the crossfire of his hunt. If they didn’t use the time they had in this empty world wisely that wasn’t his fault. If they were not strong enough, then nature would judge them and their lives would be forfeit. That was the way it had been since time immemorial. It was their truth. This woman, like so many others, was in denial. How many men had she put down to get to this point? More than she’d admit, he was certain, and probably ashamed of the blood she had spilled. How weak. 

She probably believed he killed for pure malice alone. That was not so. He took no satisfaction in death nor the fight itself, but the challenge. Sure, he would prefer to win, but he wanted to earn that victory, to be covered in blood, sweat, and tears like he was now. The prince didn’t want to slog through a battle with ease. There was no satisfaction in it, no pleasure.

He had never valued the lives of his enemies or his own men, indifferent to their fates. They were tools or prey to do with as he saw fit. If he wanted to allow a savage to live so it may nourish itself on its own hate, he would; he wanted better sport for the hunt. If a Pilus’s unit failed a mission, he struck them down; the XIIth was no place for the weak. It all balanced itself out.

He didn’t hate them; he merely lacked the ability to care. It was impossible for him to empathize with others and imagine himself in their place. He grasped the concept and often used it to manipulate others, but he didn’t know what it was like himself. There was only one person he could confidently say he felt “hatred” for and even then it was a dull throb, not a blazing inferno a normal person would feel, he imagined.

The crown prince accepted the blood on his hands, but he believed he did what he had to to keep some semblance of sanity. The hunt provided that. It was a reward system that kept him grounded. He would not apologize for it. They would do the same were they in his place and they’d be more cruel than he. Even in that regard, he was still better than them.

“Not that you could ever understand. To have stood upon this great stage of fools… to have played my part to perfection… Oh, this… this moment... let it be enshrined in eternity. My heart… beating out of time… So clear, so vivid, so real… so real.”

This happiness… he realized he would do anything to keep it. Anything. This emotion meant more to him than life itself. Zenos loved the way the warmth flowed through his veins and made him tingle. A pressure gently squeezed his racing heart that he found to be quite pleasant. This must be what it was like to be whole. For the first time in his life, he could confidently say he was a human being. It was more than he could have hoped for. His long hunt had finally paid off.

However, like all things this wouldn’t last. The color would bleed out and the warmth would fade, leaving him with only a cold and sepia toned existence. Zenos couldn’t go back to that perpetual boredom that plagued his every waking moment; that numbness that rarely released him from its grip. Not again. He was a powerful warrior, a hunter stronger than the gods themselves, but he was not strong enough to let this emotion fade. That was asking too much. The Warrior of Light had given him what he wanted. It was okay now. It was okay to let go. The show was over, his part completed; this was his curtain call. The only thing left to do was to depart from the stage… 

His hand quivered slightly as he knew what was to come next. Neither fear nor excitement affected him, but he shook all the same. Zenos closed his eyes and brought the treasured kojin blade to his throat.

“Coward!”

“Stop!”

Zenos looked to the Warrior of Light. Her brows were furrowed, teeth bared, but her eyes did not match the rest of her expression. Those dark eyes were too glossy, almost as if she were ready to weep. Then, he saw a tear glide down her freckled cheeks. The beast was sad. How touching. He almost wanted to laugh. Silly woman. His lips curved softly into a natural smile.

“Farewell, my first friend. My enemy.”

One stroke was all it took. One stroke to end it all. It hurt, but only briefly. The life drained from his body and he didn’t even feel himself fall to the flowerbed. He was freezing. The harshest winters of Ilsabard were not this cold. The light of the setting sun fizzled out, and Zenos was sucked into the void. Falling… falling into darkness.

_This feeling. So dark… so cold… this… is this death? _

******************** 

As Zenos passed away, the sound of static overwhelmed Wysteria’s senses. The Warrior of Light heard a crowd of distorted voices, but she couldn’t make out anything except a few muffled words. It was like fragments of memories compressed on top of one another, all trying to be heard at once. 

_ ...is wrong with that boy… Please smile… Smile for me… all my fault… I couldn’t protect you… I’m sorry… I can’t… I just can’t do this anymore… progress is astounding… This will revolutionize… There isn’t a sword master in all of Ilsabard that can… They’re all dead, sir… He survived but… What have you done, Zenos?! What have you… your own unit... Why did you… shut it down… we can’t have anymore… the program is... only the fiend remains… stabilized but if he… we can control… You were a mistake… you killed her... Regardless, I will serve your radiance as long as I have the freedom to pursue what I desire… you are efficient but that does not… you do have the eyes of a monster… A ravenous, insatiable fiend… I want to make them pay! All of them… Zenos, I accept you... So you could feel something… a valuable test subject… too unpredictable… a weapon we can’t let… how did you… how often men’s hearts lead to their… I have no need of… take… know that when you… your light will… he will be your… _

The static became too much and Wysteria was shoved out of the vision as she heard clay breaking. The warrior faintly felt the back of her hand touch the pitcher as she flailed about in the bed. It shattered on the floor, jarring her from her sleep as it sent shards of ceramic and water all over the room. The door swung open a second later and Tataru rushed to her side in a panic._  
_

“What was that?! Oh no! Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

Wysteria groaned, shaking her head. She had another migraine and her stomach were killing her. Gods, she really didn’t want to throw up again. She was so tired of feeling weak and gross. The woman sat up in bed, hoping the change in position would ease her nausea. The room was trying to rock from side to side as if the Rising Stones had suddenly sailed out to sea.

“Another nightmare?” the Lalafell asked. The Warrior of Light nodded and Tataru gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. Everything is alright. I’ll clean this up. Is there anything I can get you? You’re looking a bit green. Would you like a cup of chamomile tea?”

“Yes, please.” Her voice was hoarse.

If only that tea could be solid food. If it couldn’t be sucked through a straw, Wysteria couldn’t handle it. Liquid diets sucked. What she wouldn’t give if she could keep down a good home cooked meal. Alas, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. 

Tataru hurried out to brew the tea and left the Warrior of Light alone again. She tried not to think about it, but her thoughts eventually drifted back to the man who was at the center of her dream.

“Zenos…” she grumbled. “Why won’t he leave me alone?”

Wysteria wished she could erase him from her memory. It was only two nightmares she’d had with the prince, but that was too many and both had left an impact. It stressed her out and made her afraid to go back to sleep. How fitting that her aether fried brain would grasp the one thing that made it difficult for her to rest and recover. Maybe she just liked to torture herself. 

Even when she didn’t dream, he was the first thing that came to her mind. Sometimes she would wake herself up whimpering his name. It happened enough within the past few days that the Scions had taken notice. They reassured her that Zenos was dead; they locked him away in a tomb and she was safe. That may have been true in the waking world, but in her sleep, logic didn’t matter. Her own mind was the enemy, manifesting the viceroy in her thoughts and giving him free rein to torment her.

Her recent dream had been fun for a while, really fun, in fact. Wysteria loved fighting the Garlean, and it was nice to do so again even if it wasn’t real. The way they moved, striking, evading, and blocking… it was a delicate dance. Then her imagination had to ruin it by placing a foot in reality and remind her that Zenos was an evil person whom she could never be friends with. Maybe it all turned sour because she got sick to her stomach and it forced the fantasy to shift negatively. Zenos had stabbed her straight through the back and out the other side after all. It seemed likely. 

The Warrior of Light wanted to punch her own brain, tell it to quit being stupid, and stop thinking about him. She’d had enough of his dumb, apathetic, beautiful face. He didn’t even like cats! Well, the dream Zenos didn’t. Maybe the real one liked cats when he was alive and that was his only redeeming quality. Who knows?

While she waited for the Lalafell’s return, she mulled over what the prince had said. Wysteria wanted to scoff at the claims the Zenos in her dream had made, but she couldn’t. When she analyzed his words, it made sense. Her subconscious, or so she assumed, made a good case. Since his death, Wysteria could not get the Garlean off her mind; she was symbolically calling him back to her. She was grieving for a kindred spirit that loved fighting just as much as she did; a person who longed to feel something that he believed could only be obtained by facing a worthy opponent. It was sad. Would she be the same way if she was numb to emotion and unable to care about others? That was a scary thought. They were so alike and yet so different. 

_That vision felt like the Echo, but that’s not right._ She pondered. _Then again, we have no idea what the gift’s limits are. Maybe the Echo caught a glimpse of his last thoughts before he died and it was just now able to show me? I have been sick so perhaps my body didn’t have the strength to see just yet? That might be possible. Hmm... It could have just as easily been the aether sickness manifesting all that in my head too, creating a version of Zenos I wanted to be real. One that I could sympathize with. _

The adventurer closed her eyes. She imagined him standing alone in the darkness, his back facing her. 

_A Zenos that was human... A Zenos that was lonely... A Zenos that was lost... A Zenos that was suffering... A Zenos that was desperate to feel... A Zenos who longed for a connection... A Zenos who thought only the hunt could give him emotion... A Zenos who believed I was like him... A Zenos that was crying out for help... A Zenos I failed to save... _

Those thoughts hit her hard, and she felt ashamed. Wysteria slapped a palm to her forehead.

_I’m so stupid! I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for or romanticizing that imperial bastard! What’s wrong with me? He was irredeemable. After everything he did, he is the last person who deserves forgiveness. It was all a game to him. We weren’t even people in his eyes. He wasn’t sorry for anything. All those innocents he hurt and killed, he didn’t repent for any of it! He was evil. That’s it. He was an evil, nihilist, arrogant, selfish devil. It’s good that he killed himself. I’m glad! _

Wysteria sighed as her brows pulled together. It was a lie. She didn’t feel that way at all. Why did she always end up feeling bad for her enemies with fallible, mortal hearts? People who were just misled or lost. Zenos was a psycho, but there had been something there inside him at the end. There was a glimmer of humanity. His last smile haunted her. 

_I’m too soft, too sensitive, too compassionate for all of this. How do I even function as an adventurer? This would be easier if I could only see in black and white. How can I love fighting and then turn around and feel sorry for my enemies? Every time! Every time I just… ugh! And why do I feel bad for Zenos at all? Because he was lonely and pitiful, or because I enjoyed testing myself against him and it was fun and… I don’t know. I don’t know! _

She wanted to throw something, but nothing was in range to throw besides her pillow, and she didn’t want to sacrifice it to the wet floor. 

_I want to be a hero. I want to save everyone, but I can’t. It’s an impossible wish. Gaius, Thordan, Regula, and even Nidhogg to an extent... People fall to darkness believing in their own lies and they can’t see the light either because they’re blind or refuse to look. No one can force them to see the truth, and if you can’t make them see… You have to defend your own beliefs. I can’t rescue those who don’t want help. I can’t save anyone from themselves. Kami, if Zenos needed saving from anyone it was definitely himself and that crazed mind of his. He was in such a dark place. What made him so twisted? I won’t believe he was born that way._

Wysteria felt a soft whisper tickle the inside of her ear_. ...too nice for your own good. _

The woman just barely it heard. Sticking a finger into her ear hole, she checked to see if there was anything there. A smooth rounded surface met her pinky. Her friends forgot to remove her linkshell. The Warrior of Light pulled out the pearl which wasn’t easy with her hands covered, but she managed. What she heard was probably nothing. Mor Dhona was bad for causing malfunctions and inference with its aether storms. The Hyur squinted as she looked the object over. There was a crack down the middle and the gold casing was about to fall apart. It must have taken damage during her fight with Zenos. Honestly, she was surprised it hadn’t shattered. Those attacks Zenos had used as Shinryu were a doozy. This one was beyond repair. It wouldn’t be the first time she needed a replacement. 

Tataru returned and Wysteria was grateful to have an excuse not to linger on her inner turmoil. The Lalafell handed her a cup of tea and Wysteria eagerly accepted it, handling it with care. The warm liquid slowly soothed her upset stomach, and she sighed with relief. She nearly dropped it as the mittens they forced her to wear didn’t have much friction.

“Careful! Don’t spill it!” Tataru said.

Wysteria hadn’t convinced the Scions to let her remove them, but she got close once. A hallucination ruined that. The dancer nearly bit her own fingers off a few days ago. They’d turned into snakes and her aether addled mind went berserk as she tried to gnaw them off. Now there was no hope in getting them removed until she recovered more. She hates them. It was hard to hold things and her hands got all hot and sweaty. She was ready to burn the darn things, but Tataru had made them just for her. They were annoying in her current situation, but they were adorable. They looked like emerald carbuncles with little fluffy tails. Wysteria loved cutesy things like that. At least when she got really bored she could make her own puppet show. Yes, she was that desperate for entertainment. 

Mop in hand, the Lalafell soaked up the water on the floor. “So, have you had any good dreams lately?”

Wysteria took a minute to think, clearing her mind of the crown prince of Garlemald. There was one she’d had right before the Zenos drama that was nice. It was domestic, but peaceful and loving— a far cry from what she had recently suffered through. She got to go home to Kugane, visit her parents, and see her little brother. Besides Zenos, she had been thinking about her family a lot. The adventurer wanted nothing more than to be curled up on her futon with her mother caring for her, serving her ginger tea and rice porridge. 

When she and the Scions first came to the port city looking for a way to Doma, Wysteria hid who she was from anyone who might recognize her. Imperial spies were everywhere, and she didn’t want to put her family in danger. Now, however, it wasn’t such a problem. 

“Yes. I was in Kugane with my family. We saw a new kabuki play my papa was in.” she paused briefly as an idea came to her. “Tataru, would you mind writing a letter for me?”

“Not at all. Do you want to contact your folks?”

“Yes. If Y’shtola or Krile will allow it, I’d like to return home. I… I miss them. I haven’t seen them in years and with the way I’m feeling, I just really want to go home.”

“Oh, of course.” Tataru gave her hand a pat. “I remember you mentioning them when we first arrived in Kugane.” she said and nodded. “I think that would be for the best. You deserve a vacation and I’m sure you’ll do much better in your recovery at home.”

The warrior gave the young woman a smile. She raised her cup to take another drink and a rich amber hue obscured her vision. Through the glass, she could see Tataru cleaning, setting her mop aside to pick up some clay shards, and directly behind her was a vague outline that was not present before. Wysteria’s eyes suddenly widened as she recognized that tall, imposing shadow. There was no way. Her blood pressure shot up and a cold chill crawled up her spine. Wysteria gasped, causing hot tea to run out her nose and she broke into a coughing fit. It burned! Her sinuses were not happy, and she sneezed. Snot hung down to her chin and she gagged.

“What happened?!” Tataru dropped the shards in shock.

The Hyur quickly wiped her nose clean with the back of her hand. “There’s someone—” the Warrior of Light blinked. No one was there. It was only her and the receptionist in the room. “But he was…” her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I thought I saw someone behind you.”

The Lalafell turned to see for herself, facing the empty corner. “I don’t see anyone. Wait. You don’t think it was a ghost, do you?!” Wysteria shook her head. “Right. I’m being silly. It must have just been a hallucination. Well, don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s just you and me here today. Everyone else is out.” she looked back to Wysteria and held up a finger. “Y’shtola will return soon. At least, she better be. She’s still recovering herself.”

The Warrior of Light winced. The Miqo’te had nearly died to Zenos when he broke through her magical barrier. Like a domino effect, her mind was back on the Garlean again. 

_Stop thinking about him. I need to clean up this snot. Ew..._

Grabbing the handkerchief on the nightstand, she worked on cleaning herself up. If only she could have a nice hot bath, but with her luck she’d have a delusion of Leviathan coming up out of the water and she’d drown. What a way to end her legacy.

******************** 

While waiting for Y’shtola to return, Wysteria had to entertain herself with books, which wasn’t easy for someone as active as her. It was nice to read now and then, but it was no replacement for finding your own adventure. Outside the stone walls of the infirmary were people to help, ruins to explore, monsters to slay, and villains to thwart. Knowing that her friends were out there helping the Resistance order the newly liberated Ala Mhigo gave the Warrior of Light an itch that she couldn’t scratch. There had to be someone causing issues other there. Some stubborn Garleans that didn’t want to move that needed to be put in their place. She’d settle on doing the most basic tasks like walking an old lady across the street at this point. Wysteria just wanted to do something that involved moving, but her sick body wouldn’t have it. If only Zenos hadn’t taken her up to that other plane saturated in aether. This was all his fault. 

_...you alone are… blame for… _

Another buzz of faint words. Hadn’t she removed her linkshell? Just as Wysteria reached up to double check, the door opened. The white-haired Miqo’te gave her a smile and entered the room.

“Feeling better, I hope?” The Highlander nodded. “Tataru said that you wish to return home.” she approached the dancer’s bedside and inspected the woman, squinting. Unlike the other Scions, Y’shtola did not need to use her Sharlayan goggles to see the flow of aether. The forbidden spell she had used to escape the Bloody Banquet had rendered her blind, but she continued to “see” through magic. “You still have too much aether in your system, but you are stable. For that, we must be grateful.” Y’shtola quirked a brow. “Oh? Pray tell what is this?”

“W-what?”

The conjurer hovered her palm over Wysteria’s forehead, casting a spell. “Forgive me for startling you. The spot there appeared malevolent at first. Almost Ascian in nature.” 

“Huh!?”

“Don’t panic.” she placed a hand on Wysteria’s shoulder. “I assure you, it’s not. ‘Tis only a small anomaly. Upon closer inspection, I believe ‘tis harmless.” the hyur tilted her head, confused. “There is an amalgamation of mostly void aspected aether that is not entirely attuned to your being. Right...” she points to the center of the woman’s chest. “There. It is condensed tightly in your heart.”

“Was it not there before?” Wysteria asked.

“It most likely was. When I first saw you, your body was consumed in so much aether that I could hardly look upon you. You had enough to make up two people— maybe three. It was like gazing upon a mini calamity. Krile had to have her Sharlayn spectacles replaced after she examined you the first time. It obliterated the meter and cracked the lens.” the Miqo’te looked somber. “You do not realize how close you came to leaving us, my friend. For several minutes, you were clinically dead, but the gods were generous, and we were able to revive you.” 

The Warrior of Light paled. She didn’t know that. “Oh… wow.” she wrapped her arms around herself. “Is the void spot going to be a problem?”

The Scion shook her head. "No, not necessarily. Our souls contain a fragment of all eight elements, including void. That is the natural order. Your body must purge and attune the overflow of aether. ‘Tis not an easy process, but you will be fine.”

“Um…” She didn’t understand.

Y’shtola tried to break it down. “Imagine a house being flooded. The current sweeps up much in its flow and leaves a mess behind. Slow and careful, you must search through the damage to find what you can keep and what you cannot until you can start repairing your abode.” the Warrior of Light rubs the back of her head. That made a little more sense. She decided to just nod and pretend like she understood. “That’s the right of it. Your immune system will set you straight in time. You need only be patient.” she folded her arms across her chest. “As for you returning to Kugane, in your current condition you cannot teleport there by Aetheryte. There is too much risk involved. At best, you would get infused with more aether, and at worst you would be absorbed into the Lifestream. The only option is to travel by boat or airship. Should the city-states grant us leave to do so, I would recommend the latter. Do you believe you can handle the journey?”

That was a lot of malms to travel, but the Warrior of Light thought she could manage if she had her mount. “Yes. I’ll walk or ride my—”

“Absolutely not! I will escort you to Gridania myself. I will procure a carriage and a wheelchair for you.”

A wheelchair? The Warrior of Light being rolled around in a wheelchair? Her pride would not allow for that. Nuh-uh. Nope. She would not do that. “Um, that’s not necessary. I think I can—”

Y’shtola would not hear it. “Or you can remain here at the Rising Stones.”

There was no point in arguing with the healer. She knew well enough that the Miqo’te wouldn’t budge once she dug in her heels. The healer was right anyway. The dancer sunk back deeper into the pillows.

“You’ve made your point.” She muttered.

“Good. Tataru and I will start making preparations. Let’s see. You will need…”

Wysteria zoned out and Y’shtola’s voice became a faint murmur. The adventurer’s eyes wandered as she heard a familiar rattle of metal. Ice flushed through her as she slowly turned her head to face the sound. It was another hallucination; it had to be, but this time it was too vivid. His visage was clear and there wasn’t the faintest hint of a haze to reveal that what she saw was fake. No longer was he a shadow, but fully formed, armor and all. Appearing in the same corner she had seen him in earlier, Zenos relaxed against the wall, eyes half lidded, and expression utterly bored. The moment he realized she had taken notice of him, the faintest, sinister smile curled his lips. One foot in front of the other, slow and confident like a predator, he drew closer. Real or not, she couldn’t help herself; Wysteria wanted to scream. The crown prince placed a finger to his lips and her vocal chords suddenly felt like they were being squeezed. Not a single sound would emerge from her mouth. The Warrior of Light turned to get Y’shtola’s attention, but the healer had vanished. It was only her and Zenos. 

“Shh…” the warm touch of metal met her skin as he took her chin, lifting it up. Her heart felt like it stuttered. How was that possible? She remembered feeling the faint wriggling of the snakes when her fingers had turned, but it wasn’t like this. The viceroy was too real. “Do you feel this? Look at me.” 

Wysteria would not comply and looked away. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Ignore him._ She told herself.

“‘It is real enough.” the man could hear her thoughts, and that scared her all the more. The sharp end of his gauntlet poked her lower lip and Wysteria winced. It didn’t hurt, but there was a faint pressure. Regardless, it terrified her. Zenos scoffed. “Calm yourself, beast. You are no hollowed eyed prey that cowers. Now, can you feel that or no? Answer me.” Wysteria gave him a subtle nod, praying her answer would make the specter disappear. “Not so much, hm? I wonder if you will become more sensitive to me over time. How I loathe waiting, but your fragile body is determined to make me do so. Tell me.” he leaned in closer and jerked her head towards him, forcing the woman to meet his eyes. They were cold and intense. “What did you—”

“Wysteria?” the Warrior of Light ripped herself away from his hold and looked to Y’shtola. When she turned back to the Garlean, he was gone. “Are you well?”

The dancer reached up to touch her neck as the pressure against her vocal chords faded. “I’m… I’m fine.” She croaked.

“You are certain?”

“Y-yes. It’s nothing.”

“Very well. Call for me if you need anything. Pray, get some rest.”

Wysteria nodded and Y’shtola left the room, closing the door behind her. Swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat, the Warrior of Light placed a hand over her heart. It felt like it would burst out of her chest, hammering away and just begging to fracture her sternum. That hallucination was the worst one yet. 

_Don’t think about it. Do not think about him._

She closed her eyes and tried to think good thoughts. Soon, she would be back in her homeland. Tataru was right. A vacation would be good for her. At the very least, being around her family would get her mind off of Zenos. Rhalgar willing, he would fade from the list of her recurring thoughts. Wysteria took a deep breath before she looked back at the corner. It was empty. With a sigh, she turned over on her side and pulled the covers up over her head.


	5. Chapter 5

The Twelveswood was lovely this time of year and the Warrior of Light was sad she couldn’t stay longer to admire it. Autumn was well on its way as noted by a chill breeze that swept up the fallen leaves in its wake. The forest canopy transformed from its usual vibrant green into a lovely collage of red, yellow, and orange as if they had been kissed by the sun. The people of Gridania were dressed in shawls and light jackets as they bustled about the newest district of their city. Crops such as pumpkins, maize, and squash were on full display along with All Saints Wake decorations. The fall holiday would start in a few days, and it disappointed Wysteria that she couldn’t stay to celebrate. As much as she wanted to browse the festive goods, she had an appointment to keep, nor did she want the locals to notice her. 

The Highlander had opted to wear a hood that day so she wouldn’t be recognized. To most onlookers, she appeared as nothing more than a sickly young woman being pushed around in a wheelchair with carbuncle slippers. The Scions had promised her they had done their best to keep the news of her condition under wraps, but rumors still spread that the Warrior of Light was unwell. The last thing Wysteria wanted was to confirm the gossip. Worry, fear, panic— she did not want the people to feel any of that and she knew they would if the public realized the truth. If they stressed, then so would she which would only serve to delay her recovery. It was best to keep the matter private. Not to mention, she didn’t want word getting out to the local beast tribes who may think to take this opportunity to summon their gods now that the Eikon Slayer was incapacitated. For now, Eorzea would have to rely on others with Her blessing. It was Wysteria’s hope that a certain half Garlean, half Ala Mhigan would rise to take her mantle. Hells, maybe he would wear it better than she ever did. Arenvald was a good lad and deserved a moment to shine. 

At the airship landing, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn gathered to see the Warrior of Light off. Not all could make it, of course, but Wysteria was flattered nonetheless. Lyse was dealing with Resistance matters and had retired from the Scions, which was no surprise to her. It was understandable. Ala Mhigo needed a strong and steady leader in these tumultuous times, and Commander Kemp had placed his faith in the young woman. Once Wysteria healed up, the dancer intended on returning to assist Commander Hext in any way that she could. As for Thancred, the rogue was supposedly looking into rumors concerning the empire, but Wysteria didn’t know the details. Since her illness, she wasn’t included in the Scions’ discussions concerning business. They wanted their hero to focus on getting better and not worry about conflict. Half of her was sad they didn’t while the other felt relieved. If they kept her in the know, her adventurer’s itch would become unbearable. It was probably better that they spared her the misery. 

The Warrior of Light wrapped her wool blanket tighter around herself. It wasn’t that cold, but she was shivering from a slight fever, feeling too hot and too cold at the same time and finding little relief. This trip had not been easy on her, but on the other side of the world her family was waiting. It would be worth the discomfort, and she was eager to get home as much as she dreaded leaving her Eorzean friends. 

“Rest easy, friend, and take comfort in knowing that we will handle everything during your absence.” Y’shtola said.

“Aye!” Arenvald said, smacking his fist against his open palm. “If a primal decides to show up, I’ll slap it twice as hard for you, Wysteria. I may not be as strong in the Echo as you, but the buggers can’t temper me.”

“I believe in you, Arenvald.” the young woman said and the half-Garlean beamed.

“Drink plenty of liquids.” Krile spoke up, wagging a finger. “That will help you pass the excess aether more quickly. I would recommend you soak in a hot bath or spring as well to ease your aching muscles. Oh and do not worry if you have a chain of low-grade fevers for a while. As long as they only last a few hours, you should be fine.”

“We’re ready to depart, Scions.” 

Alphinaud nodded to the attendant before he looked to those that had come to say their farewells. “I will return to Rhalgar’s Reach once I’ve escorted our friend to Kugane.”

“I will come along as well.” Alisaie said, stepping up next to her twin. “‘Tis a long journey, and I do not want our Warrior of Light bored out of her mind.”

“Why would she be bored?” 

“Because I know you, brother. It will be thrice as hard on her if she only has you to listen to, prattling on about organizations and politics until her ears bleed. ‘Twould be a sin if I allowed that.”

Alphinaud was taken aback. “Hmph.” He looked to the Warrior of Light for back up, but she only giggled. “I am sure Wysteria is curious about current events given that she was unconscious for a moon. A lot has happened.”

“Yes, yes. Just try not to make it sound too mundane.”

Wrapping up their goodbyes, Alphinaud began rolling the Warrior of Light towards the docking bay. 

“Wait! Hold that airship!” 

A rumble of feet sounded above them, causing the floorboards to shake. A flash of red silk and sheer fabric rushed down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the group. The woman slumped forward, resting her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Just in time!” Lyse smiled and approached the Warrior of Light. Her azure eyes watered and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Ack! I said I wouldn’t do this. I’m so happy you’re awake. Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Lyse…” Wysteria said softly. _Please don’t cry. I can’t keep myself from crying when others do. _She thought, biting her lower lip.

“Sorry I’m late. I came to visit you several times, but you were still asleep.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Ala Mhigo needs you. I promise I will come back as soon—”

“No!” Lyse scolded, pointing at her fellow Highlander. “You’re going to rest and get well. Do you hear me? You better not so much as lift a bloody finger.” she sighed, calming down. “I lost Papalymo. I won’t lose you too. When I heard you were heading home, I came as fast as I could. I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye and thanking you for all that you’ve done. You put your life on the line for Ala Mhigo and even lost it. We can never repay you for all that you’ve done.”

Wysteria shook her head. “I wanted to see my mother’s homeland free of the empire. That is enough.”

“Not just your mother’s. It’s your home too. It always will be.”

“Thank you, Lyse.” The warrior smiled.

The flight attendant cleared her throat, quirking a brow at Lyse. The woman gave her an apologetic wave. “Oh. Right. I should let you go. If you need anything, anything at all, you let me know. Gods, I should have brought you a get-well-soon present or something. Why didn’t I— tell me what you want, Wysteria, and it’s yours!”

That surprised the dancer, and she leaned back in the wheelchair. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Look, it will make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside if you let me.”

“Uh…” 

“Come on! Be selfish. Reasonably selfish, but still selfish. It can’t be that hard for you. Scratch that. It probably is, but try anyway.”

The adventurer held up a hand. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Pick something! Before the flight attendant gives me another dirty look.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think.” she hated being put on the spot, but the former Scion was determined. Her eyes fall to the woman’s outfit and she remembered how floored she was when Hext had first donned the attire. It was a beautiful piece of clothing that was both flowing and practical for a fighter like a monk or dancer. Wysteria found her answer. “Well, I would love an Ala Mhigan folk dress like yours.”

“Done. I have just the style in mind for you.”

With that, Wysteria, Alphinaud, and Alisaie waved goodbye to everyone before they boarded the ship. It wasn’t often that the Warrior of Light flew over teleporting by aetheryte, but she enjoyed it when she did. This would be the longest flight she would take to date. According to Alphinaud, they would have to make a short stop at Radz-at-Han on the isle of Thavnair to refuel. It was a rarity that the city-states would allow an airship to travel so far. Garlean hostilities and their superior aircrafts was the major concern, but Alphinaud managed to pull some strings. Wysteria guessed it was because of the youth’s clever tongue, her condition, and news of the empire pulling back resources to defend rather than invade lands. 

The airship, _The Seed-Seer’s Grace_, that would serve as their vessel was more fortified and larger than the norm. It looked like it could make it over the sea with no issues. Whether it actually could remain to be seen. This was the airship’s maiden voyage over the ocean, and Wysteria couldn’t help but feel just a little nervous about that. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad. Garlond Ironworks had put the beauty together and the Warrior of Light knew from experience just how sturdy the Excelsior was. That airship had been to the seven hells and back and it could still fly with ease. Cid just kept improving the thing. The dancer wouldn’t be surprised if he installed a machine that served hot chocolate and gave massages. That wasn’t a bad suggestion, and she made a note to ask Cid. It’d make a nice joke if he didn’t take it seriously. 

_Such a primitive vessel._ Zenos’s voice rang clear in the Hyur’s mind as they boarded. _To think that you savages have the gall to call this piece of scrap metal and wood chips an airship. Revolutionary technology? How laughable. The nativity of your kind astounds me._

Wysteria winced and tried to ignore him. Once everyone was on board and settled, the ship began its long journey towards the Far East.

****************** 

Secured below deck in a warm bed, the Warrior of Light slept. For once, her dreams were peaceful and free of the Garlean that haunted her. When she awoke, she felt more refreshed than she had in days. Her fever had broke and her body no longer ached as it once did. It would come back, but for now, she felt much better. She sat up in bed and peered out the porthole. Night had fallen and all she could see was the glimmer of stars and the darkness down below. Beyond that, she couldn’t tell much else.

Did we make it over the sea already? She wondered.

The Warrior of Light grabbed a hairbrush off the nightstand and ran it through her dark locks a few times before finding the strength to scoot to the edge of the mattress. It probably wasn’t a good idea to walk on her own just yet, but she was tired of being coddled and wanted to make the attempt. Going up deck to stargaze shouldn’t be that hard, she figured. Whether that was true or not, she was about to find out. Slow and careful, she rose from the bed and her legs protested all the way. They were as weak as jelly and the dancer lost her balance right away and plopped back onto the bed.

The Hyur growled as she sat back up, out of breath. That had been harder than she thought it would be. Although it stung her pride, she would have to ask for help. Her body was not well enough to be independent just yet. Wysteria placed her fingers against the new linkpearl Tataru had given her.

“Alphinaud?” she whispered. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Hello, Wysteria. No, I was just reading. Do you need something?” He asked.

“Sorry. I was wondering what time it was and if we were over the ocean.”

“We reached open water a few hours ago. ‘Tis almost midnight. You sound like you slept well.”

The Warrior of Light nodded then remembered the Elezen couldn’t see her. “Yes. I hate to ask, but I would like some fresh air. Would you mind helping me? Unless you’re going to bed, then it’s fine. I understand that it’s late.”

“I will be there in just a moment.”

Five minutes later, the Leveillueur twin arrived. He helped the warrior into the wheelchair and took her above deck. It was cool out, but Wysteria had bundled up pretty tightly thanks to her friend. Alphinaud parked the wheelchair next to a wooden bench for passengers and sat down. Wysteria looked over the side to gaze down below. All she could see was the blackness of the night sky reflected upon the sea and a few clouds that drifted by. Hydaelen was like a different world this high above and the Warrior of Light was eager to see the view once the sunlight returned. For now, the only company she and the Scion had was the waxing moon.

They talked for a while, discussing what the Hyur had missed during the time she was in a coma. Not too much had happened. The nations were experiencing a brief calm, and the empire had tried no counter measures to reclaim their lost provinces. Doma was slowly rebuilding under Lord Hien’s leadership and Ala Mhigo focused on bringing its people together, beastmen included. They set a date to discuss what kind of government the city-state would have, which was coming up soon.

Naturally, the people had had their fill of kings, so Wysteria assumed they would establish some kind of republic. She was sad she could not attend with the rest of the Scions. That was the way it would have to be, though. It wasn’t like she could trust herself to give a good opinion in her condition. Her aether fried brain might make her ability to reason faulty. 

The scholar dozed off after an hour, leaving the Warrior of Light alone on the deck— besides the pilot, anyway. Wysteria looked back at the ocean again when a lurking figure caught her attention. Shoulders relaxed, he held onto the walnut railing as he stared straight ahead into the starry firmament. The wind generated by their travel and the propellers whipped his golden locks into flowing waves, reminding her of luscious, Ul’dahan satin. There was no way to tell that he was an illusion. Truly, her mind had memorized the man to a T. There wasn’t a detail out of place. He was perfect. It made sense considering how obsessed she’d been with defeating him. Wysteria knew she had drunk in his appearance, but this was more akin to drowning. 

Zenos finally spoke. “What did you see, Warrior of Light?” He remained where he was, not even sparing her a glance. 

She turned her head away and tried to ignore him. That was a difficult task given how real he seemed, but she knew she had to. Giving into the hallucination would only make it worse. It wasn’t like she knew what he was talking about, anyway.

“Not inclined to share, I see.” 

Chill bumps rose along her skin as the Garlean suddenly appeared next to her. His hand gently touched the top of her head, his palm easily covering her crown. Wysteria could not get over how huge he was. This man was a unit. Had he really been that tall or was she misremembering? It would have been easy for him to crush her skull like a grape if he so desired. The metal-clad digits ruffled through her hair and she could swear she could feel the strands being tousled. However, checking for herself, she knew that was false. Nothing was there and yet the sensation remained. 

“I could rip the answer from you. The same way I delved into your mind to discern the truth of your personality. Would you like that?” she visibly tensed, but she endured, determined to ignore the viceroy. The sight made him chuckle. “Ah, fear not, beast. I do not care enough to do so. You may keep what you saw to yourself and I shall do the same.” 

_He saw what? _ She thought. _No. He saw nothing because he’s not real. Just a figment of my imagination. I don’t know what he is talking about, anyway._

Zenos responded to her thoughts as he did once before. “The Echo, hero. I know you are ill, but do try to pay attention.” his hand left her head, and she relaxed. “As you stole into my memories, unintentionally I wager, so too was mine triggered. Against my will, I might add.” he leaned in closer, attempting to meet her eyes, but she promptly looked away. From the corner of her vision, she could see his brows furrow. “I am a master of the Resonant. I do not lose control. How did you accomplish that?”

_I don’t know. _the young woman thought with a huff before giving her head a brisk shake._ Stop. I can’t give into this madness._

“You may not be a master of your abilities, but the power behind your gift is phenomenal. However, strength counts for little if you cannot control it. You are unable to activate the Echo of your own free will. So much wasted potential.”

Oh, she was aware of that. The warrior wished she had more control. Over the years, she had tried different techniques to hone and grasp a handle on her blessing, but with no results. The Echo worked when it felt like it and she had no say. There was always a risk it could trigger at the worst moment and leave her vulnerable, and it had. In Doma, an old imperial soldier had nearly killed her as it forced her to see his memories. If Alisaie had not been there, she would’ve been skewered on his blade. 

After seeing his memories, she hated that she didn’t get to kill the bastard herself. It was all too clear what the Echo had implied. Yotsuyu’s actions were inexcusable, just like Zenos’s, but she felt sorry for the woman. No one deserved that kind of treatment, especially a child. 

_I get by. _She thought.

“The stubbornness to survive is not without merit. However, relying on that alone will only aid you so far. Did I not teach you this very lesson? Determination is no substitute for true might.” He said.

She couldn’t dispute that. Zenos had indeed taught her that determination was only half of what made a great warrior. It had been a painful and humiliating lesson, but she got the message. Do not rest on your laurels. There is always someone out there who is bigger and badder than you. Keep pushing yourself, strive to gain more strength, build your courage, and don’t relent until you win or die. 

_Right. We’ll see what— _she rolled her eyes and corrected herself. It was easy to forget he wasn’t standing there._ I will see what comes. _

“_We _shall.” He corrected. “Pray to whatever false gods you have that this climb to reclaim your strength is but a short one.” he smirked. “Or, if you are desperate, you may pray to me. Perhaps if you do so hard enough, I may deliver you from your torment.”

The adventurer scoffed at the suggestion. Worshipping a primal would be more preferable to his arrogant ass. It was clear he only said this in jest; she could see the mirth glimmering in his eyes. His tone and expression shifted to a serious one soon after. 

“When the time is right, we shall resume our roles in this play of fools. We will act out the true conclusion to our legend. Let it be a finale worth waiting for, my enemy.”

_I’ll pass figment-of-my-imagination._

“It will come regardless. The wheels are already in motion. Enjoy the intermission whilst you can. We have naught else to do.” 

Then the oddest thing happened: Zenos yawned. Wysteria tilted her head and stared at the tiny spectacle. It proved to her all the more that this was an illusion. Zenos had been a well-oiled machine. He did not express weariness, and he took pain in stride. To see him yawn was too normal, too human. Surely, he did from time to time in his life, but it still looked unnatural. Even he seemed surprised by the action.

“Pah!” the Garlean frowned. “This fatigue... I’m not well acquainted with the feeling. It seems I have you to blame for this proper introduction.”

_I’m so sick even my hallucinations are tired? It could be the medicine or just the trip. This has taken a lot out of me. _She thought.

“Return to slumber.” Zenos ordered and the Warrior of Light glared at him. Go to sleep? She’d just woke up! Unfortunately, her body did not oppose the idea. The Hyur had only been awake a little over an hour and yet her eyes grew heavy. That refreshed feeling was long gone. “We shall…” 

Wysteria watched as he faded, taking on a translucent form. His voice became faint, leaving her ears and entering her mind. _We shall meet anon…_ his words held an odd ring to them, an air of uncertainty. How strange that she would hallucinate the fallen prince like that. 

_We better not._ She thought as he vanished.

The Warrior of Light attempted to stay awake longer, but her hallucination of the prince was not wrong. Exhaustion was setting in again. Her ail form could not handle much after such a big day and yearned for more rest. Still, the dancer remained stubborn. When she dozed off, she bumped into Alphinaud, rousing the twin from his sleep.

“Ah! Oh… that was rude of me. I nodded off. My apologies. ‘Twould be best to retire for the evening. What say you?” Wysteria agreed, and the Elezen stood up to stretch before escorting her below deck. 

Back in her cabin room, Alphinaud reminded her of the potions that Krile and Y’shtola had instructed her to take. Wysteria followed the directions with dread. They were bitter and the cherry flavor the alchemists had added in did little to subdue the awful taste. If it helped her recovery, then she would endure. Thankfully, she had some apple cider packed for her to chase it down; otherwise she’d be hacking the stuff back up. 

_So tired… I’m just going to shut my eyes for a minute._ Once her head hit the pillow, the Wysteria was out within moments.

***********************************

The ground was soft, a bed of beautiful daisies that she never wanted to leave. Her eyes fluttered open for a spell only to squint shut. It was dusk, but the sun was still too bright for her liking. Unlike the last time she’d ventured into this lucid dream, the Warrior of Light had no desire to explore or move. All she wanted was to rest. What felt like hours passed and she nary moved a muscle. The sun fell below the horizon and darkness consumed the sky as stars flickered to life. Someone stirred beside her and she tried to remember if they had been there the whole time. 

“This is… not the meeting I had intended… you have clearly overexerted yourself.” he said, followed by a long sigh. “Your wounds are great, my beast, but you shall persevere as you always have. That is what you do.” Zenos mumbled, but it was so low she hardly made out the words. It sounded like he was half asleep. “Curse you for infecting me with this weakness. I did not suffer this before. Why now? The connection…” he trailed off. “Yes, I suppose we are making progress. The crystal cannot protect you from the inevitable. This is all by your will, your design.” And with that, he fell silent. 

The Warrior of Light winced and rolled over onto her side towards the voice. Her brain just kept spouting insanity at her. Perhaps another fever was coming on. The plots of her dreams were becoming so intricate, she could almost believe what he said. She and Zenos shared a connection. Was that another weird message from her subconscious? Wysteria didn’t know, and she was too tired to care. 

Opening her eyes again, she saw a blurry image of the crown prince lying next to her. She couldn’t make out the bulk of ebony metal and the Hyur soon found out why. When her vision cleared, she realized Zenos wasn’t wearing his iconic armor. Amazingly, his general size hadn’t diminished in the least. He looked just as monstrously large as he always did. It was a sight to behold the man in plain clothes: a cotton kimono of crimson trimmed with gold. Wysteria had to give her mind credit. It was a simple outfit that looked stunning on the prince and probably wasn’t out of place. He’d been the official viceroy of Doma; and if his use of samurai swords and trinkets he adorned upon his armor said anything about him, it was that Zenos fancied the aesthetic of “savage” cultures. 

The view was infatuating and that alone made her feel sick and ashamed. It wasn’t right. Zenos was too evil to look so beautiful. The Twelve and the kami were cruel to gift him with such radiance. Couldn’t his appearance reflect the ugliness inside? The warrior didn’t want to admit that the sight of him lying there was enticing. She may as well have been a fly being drawn in by the sweet scent of a carnivorous plant. One second she wanted him to go away and the next she wanted to hold him. It had to be the aether because last she checked she wasn’t this crazy. 

Lying on his side with the marguerites surrounding him, Wysteria felt a pang of solitude. Although he was sound asleep, he looked lonely. If only she could touch him. One little touch. Wait. Why couldn’t she? This was her dream and she could do as she pleased. It wasn’t like the world was privy to what she did here. She would have never desired this with the actual Zenos. That’s what was important, right? 

Wysteria scooted closer, slow and careful— partly for stealth, but mostly because she couldn’t move faster than that. Zenos’s chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, undisturbed by her movement. So close. He must have been in a deep sleep to not realize how near she was. How very out of character, but he did say she’d “infected” him with fatigue, whatever that meant.

She wondered what he smelled like. That was a weird thought to have. Oh well. One sniff wouldn’t hurt. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she could confidently say that he smelled nice. Rosewood and musk. It was intoxicating. Her eyes trailed up to his lips. They appeared soft and full, almost as if they were begging to be kissed. One taste? Gods, no! That was too far even for a dream and her cheeks burned red at the sinful thought. 

The Garlean was within reach and all she had to do was make her move. The Warrior of Light hesitated before resting her head on his shoulder. He was warm, which surprised her. She knew she shouldn’t have been. The Garlean was human, but the way he acted made her think of him as more of a machine and she half expected the hard, cold exterior of his armor to meet her skin like some kind of exoskeleton. 

Zenos’s eyes snapped open immediately. She may as well have pulled a sleeping lion’s tail. Wham! He slammed Wysteria onto her back so quickly that she could barely comprehend it. The woman saw stars swirling above her head and she struggled to recover her breath. Wrists bound beneath his hands, the Garlean stared down at her with a blank face. 

“Savage.” He drawled.

Wysteria had to overcome a coughing fit before she could answer. “Y-yes?” She cursed herself for answering to that name.

“Explain yourself.”

“I um… well...” She stares up at him, speechless. Her heart was running away with her and she could not focus to save her life.

“Ah…” he quirked a brow. “I see the hunger in your eyes.”

“Hungry? No. Not me.” She shook her head.

“Were you hoping to claw out my heart and drink of my blood? To take advantage of this weakness you’ve subdued me with?”

“Yes? Yes!” She lied.

This was an awkward situation she found herself in and she leaped at the opportunity to conceal the truth of her actions. If Zenos believed she was attempting to assault him, let him believe that. Maybe she could eventually convince herself that was her intention all along too.

“It was a sad attempt.” he said. “Very, very disappointing. You should be ashamed, my friend.”

“I’ll try harder next time.” She chirped. 

“You had better. If you do not,” his long fingers curled around her neck, drawing chill bumps along the adventurer’s skin. “I may have to give you a demonstration.”

The Warrior of Light steeled herself. She would not show fear and she welcomed the challenge. “I’d love to see you try.”

“Of course you would.” he gave her a wicked grin. “Rest savage. Let us be more productive next time.”

Zenos released his prey, and she sighed, sinking into the flowers until she slipped through the earth itself. Alone and floating through the void was exactly where she wanted to be.

The sun was filtering through the porthole when Wysteria awoke, bathing her cabin in rays of light. Her cheeks were hot and bright red with embarrassment. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so flustered. Wysteria was bewildered that she’d allowed her repressed, physical attraction to the Garlean get the best of her. How could she refute that fact after such an event? The thought of kissing him had crossed her mind. She wanted to swap spit with that imperial son of a bitch! The guilt was crushing and the dancer wanted to slap herself. Her thought process was growing more depraved.

She wanted to cuddle with Zenos. Stupid. That had been an extremely stupid move on her part. Maybe the lucid dreams responded to her will, but the echo of Zenos did not. As if being impaled on his sword wasn’t enough to prove that. The rules didn’t apply to him for whatever reason. 

There had to be an explanation. It wasn’t fair to be so hard on herself. Maybe Zenos wasn’t at the core of the problem and the event merely spoke of her sexual frustration. Being a twenty-five-year-old virgin felt pathetic, honestly. She was nervous about giving herself over fully like that. Some people were fine with exploring their options and were mature enough to handle it. Wysteria envied those people. She could fix her problem easily by walking into a local brothel, have her pick of a nice Miqo’te man, and have a wild ride, but no; the Warrior of Light couldn’t bring herself to do that. Her body would be satisfied, but her hopeless, romantic heart would weep. It wasn’t random sex she wanted, but physical pleasure tied with an emotional bond. Until she found what she desired, all she had to rely on was her hand, and it wasn’t a satisfying lover.

Convincing herself that was the true issue eased her guilt. Still, why did it have to be Zenos? If she could have replaced him with someone else, she would have quickly picked Hien. The prince of Doma was noble, kind, honorable, and handsome. She valued his friendship and knew she could trust him. Hien would be someone who would take care of her. That was someone you’d want to cuddle with. Not Zenos. Never Zenos.

Once more, she tried convincing herself to stop thinking of Zenos. Easier said than done. Her mind was already wanting to set the dream on repeat. The Warrior of Light sighed and draped her arm over her forehead. The smell of rosewood… the softness of his locks… they were faint, but those sensations still lingered. 


	6. Chapter 6

Several uneventful days passed, and with each one Wysteria felt a little better. The fire that fueled her spirit was slowly breathing life back into her ill body. The hallucinations had not diminished and continued to cause her grief. The crown prince of Garlemald was always nearby, stalking the corridors of the airship or lurking right over her shoulder, boring into her with those cold, azure eyes. It was worse when she was socializing with others, particularly the twins; Zenos watched her far more intently then, a lion that took pleasure in circling his prey. It unnerved the Warrior of Light enough that Alphinaud and Alisaie took notice. They began asking if she was okay more often, spurned by the expression she made at the empty air. She was quick to assure them nothing was wrong and laughed it off. They were already worried enough and learning that she was seeing the Garlean prince nigh on a constant would not set their hearts at ease. It was fine. Eventually, this bad spell of illusions would end. 

Overall, the Garlean was relatively quiet and Wysteria thanked the Kami for that. It was a small blessing. Now and then he’d make a comment, attempting to rile her up, but she preserved and refrained from indulging him. That wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Zenos knew just what to say to get under her skin.

Sometimes, oddly enough, he was helpful. At one point, he reminded her to take her medicine when her memory was cloudy. The crown prince directed her to the precise bottle and told her the correct dosage without hesitation. Wysteria had been tempted to ask him why he’d helped her, but there was no point. Zenos wasn’t there. This was just a phantom conjured by her feverish mind. That’s what she wanted to believe; it was the reasonable and logical option, however, doubt was worming into her thoughts. 

While her body improved, her mind did not. In fact, she could swear the visions and bizarre dreams had increased. There was an eerie scenario that crept through her head, seizing her with fear every time it came to the forefront of her mind. What if the aether sickness caused too much damage to her brain, and these hallucinations were permanent? Y’shtola had said that it was too soon to tell if she would make a full recovery, and so the possibility lingered. What if Zenos never went away? The obvious solution would be to ignore him, but that was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day. When she heard that smooth, elegant voice, she wanted to respond—retort, sass, tease—anything to fill that void of silence he left behind. And the staring! Oh gods, the staring was almost unbearable. Wysteria was tolerating an assortment of illusions, but Zenos was the worst by far. Real or not, how could she live the rest of her life with him breathing down her neck? 

From her cabin room, she peered down below as they arrived at the half-way point of their journey. Years ago, the Warrior of Light had seen Thavnair from a distance on her first trip to Eorzea. On the boat, she couldn’t see a lot, but it had fascinated her all the same. The view from the airship was a different story. A beautiful mystery from afar was now a magnificent wonder from above. She had feared looking out the small window would hamper the experience, but that wasn’t the case. The sight exceeded her expectations. All the stories her father had told her paled compared to the real thing. Radz-at-Han was like Ul’dah, being a desert city-state, but it had its own unique architecture and culture. If anything, it appeared that Thanalan architecture took inspiration from Thavnair’s domed structures and tall, crested towers. 

When the airship docked, the pilot informed the Scions that the refueling process would take a while to complete. Until then, they were free to roam the city. The Warrior of Light was practically bouncing in her seat. This was the birthplace of Kreigstanz, the combatic dancing style that she used. It was here that her father learned the dance during his travels with his kabuki theater troupe and later taught her. There would be weapons and armor here specifically crafted by masters of the art and she wanted to see as much of it as possible. 

The bodies of various races crowded the streets, and it forced the Scions to squeeze their way through. Everyone was bustling about and seemed to be in a hurry, pushing and shoving past the group unsure of their steps in this strange, exotic land. Vendors called out from their stalls, trying to grab the attention of potential customers. If the Warrior of Light could walk, she would have stopped at every one. It was probably a good thing Alisaie had to roll her around, otherwise she’d wander around the market for days and piss off the pilot for being late.

“Perhaps we should take this opportunity to discover what the empire has been up to in the Near East.” Alphinaud said as they walked through the market district. “This region is relatively neutral regarding the imperials. Rumors may flow more freely here than in other provinces.”

Alisaie nodded. “People are apt to remember a Garlean in the throes of his drink, spouting things he should not.” 

“The Alliance and the Resistance would appreciate any information the locals could provide, I’m sure.”

“We can ill afford to draw attention to ourselves, brother.” Alisaie cautioned as she looked down at the Hyur. Wysteria was trying to pay attention to the conversation, but there were so many distractions. “Especially with the Warrior of Light in her current condition. If the Garleans discover what kind of shape she is in, they will pounce upon her like rabid dogs.” 

“We can be sneaky.” Wysteria spoke up. “Ask innocent questions. Play dumb. We are foreigners after all.” 

It always seemed to work out for her during her lowly adventuring days. She played the part of the fool well, mostly because Wysteria wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. There was a reason she wasn’t a practitioner of fancy magicks. It required too much thinking and concentration. The Warrior of Light functioned on experience and instinct. Intelligence was not her strong suit. Forming careful plans and carrying out subterfuge was hard. Not that she couldn’t do it, but she preferred the smarter folk handle that kind of business and the Scions were good at that. Wysteria was the hero that hit things until they went away. The end. Who needs big brains for that? Others did most of the thinking and Wysteria was just glad she could be the one to carry out their plans. If something or someone needed punched, you could count on her to see the task done.

“Right. Let us be careful. I will head to the inn and see what I can find. You two should continue here. I will meet you back at the airship landing by sundown.”

The two waved Alphinaud off before they continued down the strip. It didn’t take Wysteria much time to convince the red mage to let them shop and hunt for information on the Garleans. They found a shop that specialized in dancer equipment and Wysteria nearly giggled like a maniac as they entered. The air was ripe with incense and fancy perfumes that made her sneeze, but she didn’t mind. This was her kind of place. There were so many lovely garbs on display that she could see herself prancing around in. It was a dreamland of pastel fabrics wrapped in metallic shimmer, jeweled tiaras, sheer veils weaved with pearls, crystal encrusted gold and silver jewelry, lace up sandals and high heels, and best of all, chakrams— chakrams of all shapes and sizes lined the wall like a mural. The Warrior of Light was in heaven. If only they weren’t so expensive, she’d buy the entire place out.

“Wysteria, with all due respect: does it not terrify you to wear these dresses as armor? I can sense enchantments on the threads, but I would hardly think that would offer enough protection.” Alisaie said.

The Warrior of Light was rubbing the silk of a peacock green skirt between her fingers. It was beyond what she could afford, but she would commit the soft texture to memory. Upon hearing the Elezen’s concern, she shrugged. “Uh, I don’t think too hard about it.” the Sharlayan said something under her breath that she didn’t catch. “They’re easy to move in.” That was partly the truth. The other half was because wearing dancer attire made her feel like a princess. She didn’t do so in public, but when she was alone, she enjoyed spinning and twirling just for the sake of feeling the swish of the fabric and feel beautiful. Wysteria felt like it was childish and silly, but that was her secret. Also, less armor meant less boob sweat. Boob sweat was evil.

“I see.” Alisaie’s expression said it all: how are you still alive?

“I really want this one, but it’s 200,000 gil. If this doesn’t have gold woven into it—oh, the tag says it does. Whadya know.” She giggled.

“That is ridiculous!”

“Hm… This pink one would be pretty on you, Alisaie. Look,” 

The Warrior of Light pointed to a mannequin that had a sultry flamingo dress on display. At a glance, the Highlander knew it was way too small for her personally. Her curves would rip through it like tissue paper. Just the thought of attempting to put it on irritated her. Wysteria envied the women who could pull whatever they desired off the rack, try it on, and buy it. Wysteria had to get her clothes and equipment customized more often than not: Slacks were too long and dragged on the ground, leggings were too narrow for her thighs, the waist was almost always just right and yet the backside was too tight or too loose; the chest wasn’t wide enough and made creases in her tops, and sleeves were big and awkward looking. She had the weirdest body shape. Maybe it had something to do with being a Hyur of two different clans. The woman appeared, and basically was a full Highlander, taking completely after her mother, but somehow she got stuffed into a body that was only five feet and three inches tall. One of the few genes she took from her Midlander father—being short. If she was just three inches taller, maybe she would fill out her outfits better. 

“The sleeves are cute and puffy. It would look great with your fair complexion.” She said with a smile.

Alisaie’s brows knitted together. “No offense, but I do not see the difference between that dress and small clothes.”

Ouch. Fair enough. That was a bit harsh, but the red mage was not known for sugar coating her opinion. Alisaie was as blunt as they came. The Warrior of Light turned her head to hide her pout. What was that girl implying? That she looked like she was running around in her underwear? Typically, she wore a frilly pink top with a decorative loincloth and carcrows. The closest thing she had to protective headgear was a bright lily and silver clasps on her pigtails. Okay! Maybe Alisaie had a point. Meh. The enchanted threads seemed to do well enough.

The Elezen stepped away to examine a collection of crystals nearby while Wysteria continued to look through a rack of clothes. A shimmer caught the Warrior of Light’s eye and drew her in like a moth to a flame. So entranced was she by this object, that the dancer used every bit of strength in her arms to roll herself towards it alone. Her sore muscles protested the act vehemently. In a glass case on a pedestal was the most lovely pair of chakrams she had ever seen, forged of pure silver. The outer rings molded into the central circle like the petals of a flower, while the inner ring had intricate filigree designs of lilies and roses, all represented by rubies, diamonds and gold. Their vines twisted and twirled together like an intimate dance and joined at the top by another blossom entirely. Each disc had one pink spinel gemstone, crafted to look like a mix between the rose and the lily. The Warrior of Light had never seen a flower like that before, but it was gorgeous, and exceeded the beauty of the other two. 

“Ohh…” Wysteria pressed her face against the glass, creating a fog on the surface. The merchant on the other side backed away, unsettled by the squished up piggy face. These weapons called to her very soul with a song that echoed her own. Perfect. They looked perfect, but did they feel that way? If only she could touch them. 

“Do you like them?” 

The Hyur turned her head and met the smiling face of a Miqo’te woman with long flame colored hair. Judging by her attire, she too was a dancer. Her body was wrapped in form-fitting threads of the deepest crimson and adorned with feathers. The pink ribbons in her hair were especially cute, Wysteria thought.

“I’ve never seen chakrams like this before. They’re so pretty!” She struggled to keep her voice from squeaking in excitement.

“Would you like to hold them?” The woman asked, grinning.

“Yes!” the Highlander cried out before clearing her throat and saying more gently. “I mean, yes, please. If that’s okay.” 

The Miqo’te took a key from around her neck and unlocked the display case. With delicate care, she retrieved the chakrams from the container. The dancer delicately handled the blades with her fingertips, tossing them up in the air before catching them in one fluid motion. Wysteria was drooling at the demonstration and by the time she received the weapons, she was shaking. The chakrams were light and comfortable in her hands, far more so than what she had been wielding. In comparison, the ones she had been using felt like garbage, but these discs felt like they were made for her hands alone, a slice of her own soul she could hold.

“The Chakrams of the Dawn Lily, Dusk Rose.”

“Huh?” The Warrior of Light tilted her head.

“Their name. They’re based off a poem. It’s a favorite here in Radz-at-Han. Scholars argue that the author didn’t follow the rules of poetry, but I still like it. Would you like to hear it?” The Warrior of Light nodded, scooting to the edge of her seat and eager to listen.“Yay! I love reciting this one to foreigners. Let’s see, so…” the Miqo’te cleared her throat before she began. 

“A Rose born of the Dusk**  
**

in darkness did he bloom, the husk

A Lily born of the Dawn,

from past devotions she did spawn

A Daughter of Light and a Son of Dark

seeds of passion they did spark

Reborn again to seek their hearts

The reaper vows to keep them apart

Heal the Rose and give him pain

Rip her petals, she will not wane,

Cast aside your sense of self

A deadly blow that must be dealt,

Steel soothed by gentle hands

Help him learn and understand,

Return to where it all once burned

Back to where they both were spurned,

Lily withered by the sun

The Rose gives all to see undone,

Both fall to the ground

A new one rises to take their crown,

A single flower from the soil

A merged being oh so royal,

Mind of Lily,

Body of Rose

The latter sleeps, eternal repose.”

Wysteria clapped her hands when she finished. “That was beautiful. I have no what it means!”

“Me neither!” Rana said, and the two shared a laugh. 

“But it’s pretty!”

“It is!” 

It was rare for Wysteria to act so excitable in public. Alisaie returned, fearing that her friend was suffering from another hallucination when she heard her across the shop.

“Are you alright?” Alisaie asked, looking down at her friend with concern. 

“Yes. I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you.” she gestured to the Miqo’te. “She recited a beautiful poem that inspired the design of these chakrams.”

“I see. It must be a great poem to make someone as quiet as Wysteria squeal.” Alisaie said.

The Highlander blushed and let out a nervous chuckle. 

_'Twas an interesting poem for a fine weapon._ Zenos’s voice entered her mind, speaking for the first time that day. _Take them._

For once, she did not disagree. “How much?” She asked.

“500,000 gil.” The red-headed Miqo’te said.

The Warrior of Light nearly choked. Her dark eyes grew wide as she donned a grimace. That was worth more than an apartment in Eorzea! 

“That sounds like robbery.” Alisaie said, folding her arms across her chest. 

The Miqo’te frowned at the young Elezen. “These chakrams are made of the finest metals and most precious gems that Thavnair offers. They were originally owned by my teacher, Mistress Nashmeira.”

“N-Nashmeira?!” The Warrior of Light knew that name. Her father had mentioned the woman often during her dancing lessons. 

“Mhm! The leader of Troupe Falsiam.”

“The Troupe Falsiam? This is their shop!?”

“That’s right.”

“Gods… now the extravagant prices make sense.” Wysteria examined the weapons again, tracing her fingertips along the gemstones. “That these chakrams bear the name and approval of the troupe alone is well worth 500,000 gil. Probably more.”

“Come now, Wysteria. You should at least attempt to haggle. That’s an outrageous price.” Alisaie said.

The Hyur shook her head. “To pay anything less would be an insult.” the Warrior of Light said. She wished she could agree with Alisaie if only so it wouldn’t hit her purse so hard, but if she paid anything less for a Troupe Falsiam item, she’d feel guilty. The stories her father had told her about the group were inspiring and she looked up to them. They traveled the world, dancing for people down on their luck and raised their spirits. How could she not want to support them?

“I have enough.” is what she said, but on the inside, she was crying. _I wish I wasn’t such an impulsive buyer. Maybe then I would have millions of gil save up from my adventures. __I’ve never wanted a weapon so badly. They’re calling to me! Not literally, thank Rhalgar. No hallucinations like that, yet. Knock on wood. She thought._

_You are passionate about violence._ Zenos said.

_Speaking of hallucinations…_ she resisted rolling her eyes. _But they cost so much. I’m crazy for considering this. I’ll be broke! _

_Embrace what you enjoy, my enemy, my friend. There is no shame in that. They show potential: finely crafted, history with a master of the art, and based on a curious poem. However, to judge their true worth we must put them to the proof._

His words were reassuring. Zenos comforted her. Well, more like enabling her. That was odd. She was not sure what to think. If the hallucination that usually tormented her was pushing her to buy the chakrams, it spoke of how deeply she craved them. The only problem was that she wouldn’t be able to use them anytime soon. It could be weeks or months before she could test the chakrams out. They just had to come across her path at the most inconvenient time.

Fishing out her gil purse, Wysteria counted the coins required before handing them to the Miqo’te. “Thank you for your patronage!” the Miqo’te said and giggled as the highlander nuzzled the inner ring of the chakrams against her cheek. “My name is Ranna by the way. I’ll be dancing later this evening. If you’d like to come watch Troupe Falsiam in action, I’ll save you a front-row seat.”

Wysteria took a deep breath, charging up a squeal loud enough to shatter glass, but she was promptly cut off by Alisaie. The Elezen saved many ears that day. “Thank you, but unfortunately we will be departing for Kugane soon. Our airship should be about ready.”

The Hyur deflated as if the teen had taken a needle and popped her like a balloon.

“Aw. That’s too bad.” Ranna said. “Well, if you ever find yourself back here, or happen to be in Eorzea in the next few moons, seek us out.”

“You’re going to Eorzea?” Wysteria asked.

“Mhm! Mistress Nashmeira is planning a tour. I’m so excited! It will be my first time visiting the west.”

The young woman smiled and nodded. “I definitely will. Thank you, Ranna.” 

“Of course! It’s always nice to meet a fellow dancer. Take care and I hope your trip goes well.”

After a full day of shopping and hunting for information on Garlean activities, Alisaie and the Warrior of Light headed back to the airship landing. They didn’t have any luck finding info on the empire and could only hope Alphinaud’s venture proved more fruitful. The other twin was waiting for them when they arrived and waved them over. There was a grim look on his face and Wysteria felt dread clench in her gut. Bad news was coming. They were about to return the Warrior of Light to her cabin before they spoke about the rumors, but Wysteria begged them to let her join. She was so tired of being out of the loop. They considered it for a moment before they reluctantly agreed. 

“What did you discover?” Alisaie asked her brother.

“Grim news, sadly.” Alphinaud crossed his arms. “Dalmasca was one of the many imperial provinces that rose in defiance of their masters after the successful revolutions in Doma and Ala Mhgio.” he looked down. “I spoke with a group I assumed were vagabonds that turned out to be refugees. The royal city of Rabanastre was razed to the ground.”

“What!? When?” 

“Recently. About a day or two ago.”

“That explains how an event so disastrous hasn’t reached us yet. The intel from our spies are probably still in transit.” Alisaie said.

“They say it was a massacre. Men, women, and children… the empire’s wrath spared no one. There was nary a soldier on the ground. The Garleans bombed and gunned them down from the skies.”

Wysteria covered her mouth as she gasped. The shock soon turned into fury and she balled her hands into fists. She didn’t know what to say. All this time, she thought the Garleans were backpedaling. They recovered quicker than she expected, and she was still unable to fight.

“I have to get better.” she whispered. “As soon as possible.”

Alisaie lowered her voice. “By the Twelve…” She said, shaking her head.

“I’m afraid this will have far-reaching consequences and quell other rebellions brewing within the empire.” Alphinaud continued. “They’ll know that Varis zos Galvus is not above slaughtering a whole city of innocents. With Doma free, he needs a new nation to hold up as an example. The message is clear: this is what happens if you defy the empire.”

“I had dared to hope that if enough provinces rebelled, the Garleans would be spread too thin. The empire would crumble.”

“They wavered, if only for a moment, but it seems they’ve tightened their iron hold once more.” Alphinaud finished with a sigh. 

_The desperate struggling of a pompous fool. _Wysteria’s mind rang with the prince’s voice. _He cannot possibly make a more obvious display. His fear of losing the throne is laid bare for all to see. Such a needless and excessive show of force is hardly flattering. There is no pleasure in slaughtering docile and domesticated beasts. I am not surprised. ‘Tis typical that his Radiance would resort to such a cowardly solution, never meeting his prey in battle, never staring into the whites of their eyes. He has no respect for the hunt and would see this entire star devoid of proper sport. Oh, father, how weak and empty you are._

“All those poor people.” Stupid Garleans. How did they think? Did they truly believe that slaughtering innocents helped their war against the primals? Their actions only encouraged summoning. How could they not comprehend that? It bewildered the woman. “Can we go help them?”

“We are split between two fronts already. The warfare may have died down in both the west and east, but it won’t remain that way for much longer.” The scholar said.

“Then what do we do?” Wysteria asked. 

“We keep moving forward.” Alisaie said. “We keep fighting.”

“Doma too was empty of hope before you and Yugiri reinvigorated their spirits. Reviving the will to rebel isn’t easy, but it is possible. We have seen this.” Alphinaud said. “We cannot help Dalmasca directly, but if Lord Hien’s shinobi can continue to spread information of Ala Mhigo’s and Doma’s progress, perhaps they will find the strength to rise again.”

“One step at a time.” Alisaie said. 

Silence fell upon the Scions as they reflected on what they had learned. For the next hour, they didn’t say much to one another, contending with their own thoughts. With their prince gone, Wysteria had prayed it was enough to wound the empire’s morale. The Garleans stumbled, but they didn’t fall. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, they returned, prepared to challenge freedom once again. Like their intimidating machina, they marched on, never growing weary. They merely replaced those that showed weakness like parts of an engine. The empire felt more akin to a force of nature than an “union” of nations. 

The Warrior of Light closed her eyes and tried to push the distressing news away with meditation. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the crisp, cool breeze that swept through her hair and kissed her face with gentle pecks. She imagined she was a leaf at the mercy of the wind, fluttering above the seas, dipping into the cresting waves only to be swept back up into the air. For a moment, she truly felt weightless and free from the confines of her flesh. That daydream shattered when his voice invaded her thoughts again. Her muscles tensed and every hair raised along her arms like a cat getting ready to hiss. The snark of Zenos’s sharp tongue was coming. She could feel it. 

_Were this a Garlean vessel, we would have arrived at our destination days ago. _Zenos was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, it would remain that way. _To think your other forms of transportation are even slower. I would call it pathetic, but ‘tis far worse than that. What is the word I search for? Tragic? No, that is still too kind. Disgraceful? Hm, not quite that either. Ah! I know. Abysmal. _

He drawled out the last word in such an arrogant manner that the dancer couldn’t help but grind her teeth. What he said was nails against a chalkboard annoying. The woman released a quivering breath. His little comments like that really got to her. Was he trying to irk her? Either way, she’d had enough. If Zenos was seeking to rile her up, he won. It was useless to talk to a figment of her imagination, sure, but she didn’t care anymore. If she didn’t snap back, Wysteria felt like she would lose it. 

_If I was in a better condition, I’d teleport to Kugane. she thought. Do you know what teleportation is, Zenos? I’m sure you’ve done it plenty of times being so powerful and superior to us savages. Oh, wait. Garleans can’t manipulate aether, can they? You can’t even summon an onze from your pinky. That’s abysmal!   
_

The Warrior of Light waited to hear his reaction. Wysteria was already patting herself on the back for her comeback. Usually, she sucked at insults, but she felt that one was pretty good. The tension was rising while she waited with only the sound of the propellers whirling. Zenos said nothing. There was only silence. Wysteria was about to take the encounter as a victory when pressure firmly gripped her shoulders. She squealed, nearly tumbling off the bench in her panic. Alisaie was the first to react, grabbing the Highlander by the back of her haori before she fell into the floor. The Elezen pulled her back, and the twins rushed to her aid. Her heart was trying to run away with her. Had something so little startled her that badly? She was ashamed. It wasn’t the worst jump scare of hallucinations, but the anticipation forced her into an overblown reaction. How embarrassing. 

“Are you all right?” Alisaie asked.

“I… I think so.” Wysteria said, straightening out her robes.

“Another hallucination?” Alphinaud questioned. The Warrior of Light nodded. “Perhaps it would be best to return to your cabin. ‘Tis late.”

“We wouldn’t want you flailing off the airship.”

That was just great, and she’d been enjoying the fresh air too. Now it was back to the small, stuffy cabin. “Okay.” She said, trying not to sound too disappointed. 

Back below deck, they tucked the Warrior of Light into bed, gave her an elixir that supposedly stemmed the flow of hallucinations, and then left her alone to rest. When Alphinaud shut the door, the legatus of the XIIth Legion appeared right behind it, making the Warrior of Light jump and curse under her breath.

_I wish he’d stop doing that. _She thought, glaring at Zenos.

“‘Tis not nearly as abysmal compared to how skittish you are of me.” he said, walking towards her with a frown. The dancer snorted and held her glare steady. “Pray tell, where is the ferocious beast I fought before? I see nothing here but a frightened rabbit worthy naught of my attention.”

_Good. I don’t want it! And scared? Ha! I am not scared of you, Zenos. You’re not even real. You’re an illusion, a fake conjured up by my sickness._

“Are you so sure?” He stopped at her bedside and Wysteria couldn’t help but bring the covers up above her nose.

_Yes._

Zenos reached out for the Hyur and her muscles tensed. “Then why are you flinching?”

_I-I’m not._ Her determination grew weak, and she lowered her gaze. He had a good point. Why was she so scared if he wasn’t real? Because he felt real?

“You’re shying away from nothing then?” He asked.

_No! Yes? I just… don’t touch me. _

“If I am nothing more than a phantom of your illness then why does it matter?”

_Stop. Please stop._

“Thus does the prey flee, dodging the question.”

“Shut up!” She growled, unable to keep her frustration silent any longer.

Zenos continued, clawing his way through her head. “Do you know why?”

Wysteria covered her face. “Go away. Stop talking.”

“Because you doubt. You doubt that this is an illusion.”

The Highlander shook her head. “You’re not real.”

“I am real.”

“You’re not real!” She yelled. If the twins didn’t hear that, she’d be surprised.

“You know I am real.” He leaned in closer.

The shaking of her head grew brisker, turning her thick locks into a tousled mess. “Zenos is dead. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! You’re rotting in an unmarked grave with your stupid head barely hanging onto your neck!” She hissed.

“Dead I may be, but I have endured thanks to you. I am right here, my dear friend. My enemy, and I am not going anywhere. Look at me.” 

Zenos snatched her hands away from her face. Wysteria tried to pull them away. Her hands would not move, despite her efforts. It didn’t hurt. Like before it was just a dull pressure, an almost numb like sensation that followed the viceroy’s touch. How did the aether sickness explain this phenomenon? It could be temporary paralysis, but that seemed like a stretch. No, that had to be it. The other possibility was too terrifying to acknowledge. Not to mention insane. 

Zenos squints, cheeks and lips lifted by a pleased feline-esque grin. That was one of the sharpest weapons the illusion had in his arsenal. Her mind was holding Zenos’s last smile against her, a knife against her throat she caved to every time. It did things to her she didn’t like. Her heart dove into her stomach only to jump back up into her throat. The burn came slowly at first until it spread from ear to ear. Damnit, she was blushing! This handsome, evil bastard! Gods, she hated him. How could a hallucination be so detailed and pretty? What if he was right? Did that make him a ghost? No, that was utterly ridiculous. She would not believe something so silly. He was vivid, yes, but that proved nothing. Wysteria could explain it away by pointing to the aether sickness. This kind of stuff wasn’t unusual. Zenos was reflecting her fear back at her like a mirror, a fear that her hallucinations would remain. 

“Stop smiling like that.” She said, trying desperately to keep her voice from quivering and failing.

“This is the smile you adore, is it not?” The prince sounded amused. He knew what it did to her. It made sense with him being a figment of her imagination. If the real Zenos had known that, she’d ask for a shovel and bury herself alive.

“That’s exactly why I want you to stop.” Wysteria said.

“Tch. Very well.” his face returned to that infamous bored expression. “You are being quite stubborn. Although, I suppose it should not surprise me. How shall I prove myself to you, hm? You already deny the obvious like a fool.” he released her hands and Wysteria brought them back under the safety of the blankets. “This may take some thought. How much longer can you blind yourself to the truth, I wonder.” 

Wysteria shook her head. “Do as you will, but leave me alone. Please?” She asked as nicely as she could and to her relief, it worked. 

Zenos crossed his arms over his chest and the Warrior of Light sighed. Propped up against the headboard, she grabbed a book from the nightstand to read. The Garlean remained in her room, but he said nothing more for the rest of the evening. He leaned back against the wall with his eyes to the floor— thinking, scheming. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tJLINPLB-o  
I feel this sets the mood. Nier music is just good in general.

A few hours after the airship had departed, it started raining. Wysteria looked out the window, watching as the droplets rolled down the glass and merged with the curve of the metal pane. A gentle rhythm tapped softly above her, luring the adventurer to sleep despite her attempts to stay awake. The woman required rest, but she was tired of sleeping so much. Y’shtola and Krile said it was normal, to embrace her drowsy spells like any other. Easy for them to say. The Warrior of Light felt like she was slumbering her life away. The aether sickness made her so unbelievably tired and any effort on her part increased her fatigue by tonzes. Like the journey from Mor Dhona to Gridania, the trip into Radz-at-Han left her drained. All she wanted was to be active again. Watching the world pass her by was torture. There was no book that could substitute real adventure, and she was desperately chomping at the bit for some action. 

In her boredom, her mind couldn’t help but wander. It drifted through the fog, grasping onto the one person she was trying so hard not to think about; a man who had been standing before her a few hours ago, clear and vivid enough that she could feel his warmth. It was no use. His claws sank in and dragged her to him— to Zenos and the battles they shared. Few as they were, they left an impression on the woman that would never fade. Their final confrontation had been so fulfilling. His Echo was a replicant, a fake, a copy, but Zenos yae Galvus had in a very short amount of time mastered his new power. The man had effortlessly merged with a primal considered on par with the ancient eikon Bahamut. It was a test of her strength so challenging that the Warrior of Light nearly lost. Yet, through determination and strength, she prevailed. Rhalgar, who was she kidding? It was also the result of a lot of dumb luck. 

To her knowledge, the prince hadn’t possessed the gift very long; so, how did he master it so quickly? He was a genius and a natural to the art of combat— Except for magic. However, she had little doubt that even that was beyond his reach. If Zenos had truly desired to bend aether to his will as the mages do, the bastard would have discovered a way to become a wizard by some “impossible” means. Maybe she was giving him too much credit. 

Zenos was the perfect warrior. Gods, she despised how much she envied him: his intelligence, strength, and though she was sad to admit it, charm. Zenos knew exactly what to say to get his way. She’d been expecting it and still fell for his honey and blood sprinkled words, far too spicy with violence and yet she drooled all the same. How shameful.

As she pondered upon the source of his power, she realized there was a desire that burned in the depths of her heart, one that she was ashamed of. Wysteria wished that she too could command primals. Eikon versus ekion! Echo against Resonant! Just the thought made her chest tickle with excitement. That was an ability still under lock and key, but if she learned, she wondered if she could resist using that power. There was only one primal she wished to control, the greatest of all of them: Bahamut. What a dramatic show she and Zenos could have weaved. Elder primal against the primal born of pure rage and hatred. It was wrong to lust after such a scenario. So many people and the star would be at risk. In an ideal fantasy world, however, it would be the perfect fight. 

“Ow….” The Highlander grumbled, curling up into a ball as a migraine came to life, knocking against her temple with a mallet. A punishment from the Twelve and Kami no doubt and rightly deserved. To covet a battle so dangerous with that madman was a sin. Yes, she needed this and accepted it as divine justice.

Not long after the headache started, a chill coursed through her body, infecting her bones and muscles with a deep, throbbing ache. Another fever was coming on and it never entered alone. An array of weird shapes and twisted creatures lurked in the corner of her eye, building paranoia. Delirium was stealing her sanity away, holding her consciousness hostage as it unleashed a horde of hallucinations upon her. They were always worse during the fever spikes as her mind was practically boiling from the heat. 

Her head throbbed, and the woman whimpered pitifully. It felt like shards of glass were growing from inside her skull, piercing into the pink, wrinkled meat of her brain with such malice that she wondered if the creatures creeping around her were the cause. Despite all of this, her eyelids grew heavy and she could no longer stand to keep them open. The dim light of dusk that spilled into her room was too much, a hammer that struck with more force each time she blinked. Squinting her eyes shut, she found some comfort, but it didn’t last. A low murmuring met her ears, a voice that she could barely understand that was steadily becoming clearer.

_ …every nerve is alight with pain… every move… down to your very breath… your heartbeat… faster now… slamming against your sternum as this delectable agony fills your bones… I can feel all of it as if it were my own flesh… for it is mine as it is yours, my friend. Ours. _

_ “Zenos…” _She groaned, falling deeper into a dementia like state as her temperature escalated. 

The aching intensified until it bloomed into pure anguish. It was as if acid was rushing through her veins instead of blood. Wysteria could no longer tell how much time had passed, but she said the Garlean’s name in distress like a mantra. As for why she called out to him— her enemy, a man who would sooner stab her than help her— she didn’t know. Not a breath passed her lips that didn’t possess those two syllables.

_ “Zenos… Zenos… Zenos… Zenos, it hurts.” _She tossed her head from side to side. 

_ Indeed, but such is the way of these things. _ He drawled, a tad wearier compared to the norm. _ Stitch by stitch, are we woven together, molten thread fueled by our aether. This needle you wield is the spark upon our souls, causing our spirits to flare as an inferno. Do not fight against the pain. The more you struggle, the more you tax our strength. Allow us to heal. _

“Gah… Zenos…” She wriggled around, unable to get comfortable.

_ You’re liable to combust if you keep squirming. As entertaining as that would be, ‘twould benefit neither of us. Sleep. _

“I don’t want to sleep. I can’t sleep like this!” she whined like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. Irritable couldn’t begin to describe her mood. “Make the pain stop. Make it stop now!” the Warrior of Light gripped her own hair, arched her back, and squalled. “Please!”

_ You asked for this, savage. Willed it to be so. It cannot be undone. _

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Oh, but you did, Bringer of Light.”

The woman’s eyes snapped open as another voice met her ears. Her cabin room disappeared, replaced with a dark, swirling torrent of void energy. Gone was the safety of her blankets and pillows that her bed offered; Wysteria was on the ground with nary a piece of clothing. The Highlander scrambled to cover herself and stay on guard. Sick, weaponless, and naked, she couldn’t feel more exposed. Not a light could be seen in this abyss other than the glow of a red mask—a mark of an Ascian, and one that she knew well.

The Warrior of Light shook her head in disbelief. “Lahabrea… what are you—No, you can’t be here. You were destroyed. I saw it!” another foe back from the grave. Just what she needed. The woman clenched her teeth. “Why does this keep happening to me?” She nearly sobbed. It was like every enemy from her past was coming to haunt her. Who was next? Gaius van Baelsar? Nidhogg? Archbishop Thordan? Hells, throw Illberd in there too. Make it a whole damn party.

The Ascian stood there, an intimidating, arrogant figure that bathed in the sin of darkness. “It has been a long time, my old enemy. Your Mother has neglected you, left you vulnerable. Ha! You are nothing more than a defenseless infant. What an opportune moment to pluck this thorn from His side.” he said with a grin. “Did you think a mortal pawn like the archbishop could truly destroy an Ascian? Please. That idealistic thinking will only disappoint you.” Lahabrea suddenly appeared in front of Wysteria and grabbed her by the throat. His taloned gloves sunk into her bare skin, drawing blood that trickled down her chest. He lifted her up into the air and her feet kicked wildly as she dangled before him, helpless and alone.

“Hydaelyn!” she cried out. “Mother!”

“She cannot save you! No one can. You’ve doomed yourself, hero.”

The dancer gurgled and coughed, digging her nails into his arms as she tried to keep herself from suffocating. Wysteria could feel the pure malice that radiated from those dark sockets. Rarely did the Ascians dirty their own hands. This was more than just taking out an obstacle for his malevolent god. This was personal. Lahabrea hated her. Had he harnessed this much when she last saw him? She could not remember. 

“How I longed for this moment!” he hissed, his words dripping like venom from his lips. “To snuff out your pestilent, little light by my hand. You have failed, mortal. You are a failure!” He cackled as he shook her, and it took all the Hyur’s strength to keep him from snapping her neck. 

“Nngh!” She growled, wishing she could deny him.

“You are a failure.” He said again, only this time his voice had changed. It was feminine. The demonic mask slipped from his face and beneath it was the visage of a beautiful, fair skinned woman with sapphire eyes, and hair spun of sunlight.

“Min…filla?” The Warrior of Light hacked out as she ceased her struggle momentarily, shocked by the revelation. It was quickly resumed as Minfilla’s grip tightened.

“You could have stopped me.” The antecedent accused, scolding her in that gentle, motherly voice that she dearly missed. It cut the Highlander straight to her core.

“I… I tried! Gah” She gasped, feeling the woman’s thumb press harder against her windpipe. 

It was true. At the Bloody Banquet, Wysteria had grabbed Minfilla’s hand and tried to reason with the woman as hard as she could. “Stay. We’ll find another way. Don’t go back there! I’m begging you!” Her pleading fell on deaf ears and the Warrior of Light came out of the Sil’dih ruins alone. 

“To be a tool of the Mother Crystal, my life stolen away, whisked off to a world I know not… I am as good as dead. You allowed this. How could you do this to me, Wysteria?”

“I’m s-sorry. Forgive me!” She begged her friend.

“Are you really?” 

The figure’s voice shifted again, as did the face. Minfilla’s blonde locks turned snow white and shriveled up above her shoulders. Feline ears sprouted from the top of her head and she gazed back into cloudy orbs. 

“Because of your carelessness, your weakness… you allowed yourself to fall into a monterist trap. And what did you do? Nothing. You sat there, frozen in fear like the useless doll you are. You let the Scions down. You let all of Eorzea down. I used the ancient spell Flow because I knew I could not depend on you. You may as well have blinded me by your own hand. My life dwindles away as I must use mine own aether to see. You gave me this death sentence.”

“Y’shtola…” Wysteria whimpered, but she did not stop struggling.

The Miqo’te’s frown deepened before she transformed into someone else. As the man manifested before the Hyur, she lost her will to fight in an instant. Her legs ceased their desperate swings, and she stared, dumbfounded at the knight before her. He was just as she remembered him… the very last time she saw the Elezen. His lips were stained red with blood, a hole in his chest that glowed with arcane light, his spiky, silver hair disheveled from his fall, and eyes glazed over with death.

“I trusted you. You were hope incarnate.” Haurchefant said. 

Rather than being angry like the other phantoms, the knight sounded crushed; hurt that she had allowed Ser Zephirin to kill him. That his friend, his hero, was not the great woman that he thought she was… He was right. They were all right. Wysteria had failed. She was a failure. She had always been a failure, ruled by the anxiety that hindered her every step. 

“You should die. ‘Tis only fair. You are no hero but a dog, a symbol the world vainly place their faith in. They will know their folly as should you. How many will die because you allowed yourself to fall ill?”

The woman was strong, but she wasn’t invincible, and she made mistakes. Too many. For one, she was more reactive than she was active, waiting for direction by the Scions or some other authority before she acted of her own will. Simple adventuring was different: the Hyur could make decisions when it came to her own life, adjusting or sticking to her plans as the situation demanded. Not so much with national affairs. “Go here. Go there. This is where you need to be. This is what you need to do to save the world! Kill this. Find that. Go! Go! Go!” and the Highlander obeyed. It worked out, but she saw the flaws in that subservience. It hinted at a deeper problem. The woman had no confidence in her own critical decision making. So she came when beckoned, spoke when spoken to, and did whatever was asked of her. It was then she realized that she really was like a dog, a happy and pleasantly rewarded dog, but a dog nonetheless. 

The warrior told herself it was because the Scions and the city state leaders knew best. That was an excuse. The adventurer thought she lacked intelligence, truly thought she was an idiot. She didn’t like to be wrong. She didn’t want to be a screw up. The easiest way to avoid that: Don’t lead, follow. And so she did. Wysteria convinced herself that it was her inability to act that had killed Haurchefant. Rather than charge in and help him like she should have, she froze up and watched in horror. In that moment, when Sir Zephirin’s spear struck the knight’s shield, Wysteria couldn’t think or move. It all happened so fast and by the time she found the strength to act, it was too late. Now he was dead, and it was her fault. The Warrior of Light had allowed the hand of others to move her so much that she didn’t react when it mattered. She wasn’t a hero but a sword that could hardly think for itself. She was so close. She godsdamned close! If she had reached out, if she had just done something… it was no use lingering on it. You couldn’t bring loved ones back from the dead.

Many mistakes haunted her, but none so much as the Elezen’s death. Her friend’s accusations whittled away what was left of her hope and self esteem; and there wasn’t much to begin with. Maybe they were right. Yes, they were. She deserved this fate. How fitting that she would die by the hand of the one person who believed in her the most and whom she’d let down the hardest. Wysteria was resolved to pass on. 

Just as her own darkness was about to consume her, a cheery voice chimed in her mind. _ You… you are unharmed? F-Forgive me… I could not bear the thought of… of… _

“You deserve to die. You must die.” the Haurchefant before her said. “Give up. Let the aether erase you and leave naught but ash in its wake.”

_ Oh, do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero. _

Light radiated from the woman as if the true spirit of Hauchefant reached down from his heavenly loft to touch her. The warrior found her resolve. No matter how many times she failed, she couldn’t allow herself to quit. Not like this. Haurchefant would say nothing like this shade; he wouldn’t stand for her to give up. To do so would be an insult to his memory. 

No one said the Warrior of Light was flawless. Her friends, her real friends, would never say these things, and she knew that deep down. This was her own inner darkness doing this to her, the fear and anxiety that had haunted her since she was young. Her blessing illuminated the truth of the nightmare. The madness of the fever vanished, bowing to the power of Hydaelyn.

“Shut up.” the dancer growled at the shade, forcing a grin. Yes, she would smile. She would smile for him. Her best friend. Her knight. “Getting sick wasn’t my fault. I won’t die here. I won’t let this illness kill me!”

The Warrior of Light fought to escape the phantom of Haurchefant. Rather than become hope incarnate, Wysteria became something else, much to the delight of a hidden spectator. She turned into a true savage. The woman drew blood from the Elezen and he gasped, holding the Hyur away from him like a cat by the scruff.

“You’re not Lahabrea! You’re not Minfilla or Y’shtola, and you’re definitely not my Haurchefant!” Wysteria snarled.

“Die.” His conviction had shrunk, voice quivering with fear.

Wysteria’s nails grew long like claws, hooking into the dead Elezen’s flesh before she ripped downwards, leaving trenches that overflowed with black blood. The face of the phantom shifted again, and she stared back into her own reflection.

“Vanish!” Her doppelgänger screeched as her irises flamed scarlet. 

Wysteria slipped free of her shadow’s hands, digging her clawed feet into her stomach. Blood gushed up to her knees as she tore at the dark, rancid meat of the fiend. The Warrior of Light fell, and she landed on all fours, gasping for air. She received only a few breaths before her airway was mysteriously cut off again. Pressure gripped her throat once more, but there was no source. Wysteria reasoned she had to destroy her shadow to do so. The clock was ticking.

The shadow glowed purple, drawing forth chakrams that swirled with unholy energy. Her movements were odd and unsettling, a dance that was insidious as it was beautiful. A dance that drew power from the void. A memory returned to Wysteria, one of the many dancing lessons her father had given her. 

“The Totentanz. The Dance of the Damned.” A manifestation of darkness. Fueled by negative emotions, one’s inner darkness can take control of their host and force them into a violent dance. Death and destruction follow their steps until they too are claimed by the reaper. When survival is not at the forefront of the mind, and the victim soaks in their own negativity, that’s when the Totentanz could strike. The Warrior of Light had the perfect storm of maladies and experiences to be assaulted by this force. Although she had never encountered it before, her father had given her an example of what it looked like. It was eerie and cultish, completely deprived of joy. The only way to save someone from the Totentanz was by fighting back with its antithesis. If Totentanz was darkness, then Kriegstanz was light.

Wysteria held her hands aloft and her body shined with a radiant sheen, covering her in a white gown. Her new, beloved chakrams flashed into her hands and she got into position. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. No one else on board was a dancer, and so it was up to her to exorcise herself of this menace. Of course this would happen after they left Thavnair. What rotten luck she had. 

Wysteria didn’t know what would happen. If she defeated her darkness, would it be cast from her body and attack someone on the airship? Whatever. She couldn’t worry about that now. If she did nothing, she would perish.

“I am the Warrior of Light. I am hope incarnate.” she winced as she heard herself speak. It sounded way cooler when Haurchefant said it. In comparison, she was like a little kid playing make believe. Wysteria pointed a chakram at her copy. Welp, she had gotten this far, and she figured she may as well fully commit to the cheese. “I’m not giving up. I will not fade into the shadows. Besides, black isn’t really my style. I’m more of a pastel kind of gal.” She said, smiling at her darkness.

Her body ached with each step she performed, but the Hyur was grateful she could move at all. She charged, threw her chakrams, and missed. Her copy twirled, dashing around her in a zig-zag. Dark energy followed her like ribbons fluttering in the wind, bright and violet. The shadow’s movements were bizarre and unpredictable, keeping the Warrior of Light on her toes at all times. Wysteria registered every subtle motion as she searched for an opening, lest she miss her chance to strike. As her enemy bent backwards, kicking up her leg in such a way it looked like her spine would break, Wysteria flung her chakrams overhead, one after the other. Brimming with holy energy, they spun straight for their target. 

“There can be no forgiveness.” Her shadow cried out, dodging again. Her enemy was proving to be the slippery sort. Was she this annoying to her enemies?

A blast of void surged forth from her other self in a cone, far too quickly for the Warrior of Light to evade. However, she endured the attack and survived, using her light to keep the darkness at bay.

“You willingly gaze into the light, blinding yourself to the truth.” Her copy said.

The Warrior of Light didn’t respond, couldn’t as her lungs were burning again. That little heroic speech probably hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. Blowing out hot air wasn’t going to help her. Too bad that’s exactly what she’d done. Dumbass. She could beat herself up over it later.

The dancer got in close to her enemy, swinging her blades all around her and creating waves of colorful beams that enhanced her abilities. Once she completed her steps, a burst of light rolled from the dancer in waves, lighting up the abyss. Struck, her doppelgänger flew backwards, giving the warrior the opening she needed. Metal sank into flesh and sliced right across her enemy’s neck. Rather than blood, purple smoke and black ichor oozed from the wound like a fountain. The woman collapsed and disappeared, but the inky substance she had spilled stirred. Like mercury, the substance formed into tiny balls and moved to form a perfectly round puddle. Four arms burst forth from the goo, followed by two heads and two bodies. Where she felled one, two more copies rose to take its place.

“You’re too weak to do what’s necessary.” One giggled.

“Embrace oblivion, little spark.” Said the other.

_ My lungs can’t take much more of this… _Wysteria thought.

Wysteria prayed eliminating these shadows would not result in a repetition of spawning more. She didn’t know what else to do, unfortunately, and it was clear these shades weren’t in a diplomatic mood. They were here to kill her and would take pleasure in doing so. 

The copies inched towards her, grinning wickedly with their arms outstretched. The Warrior of Light struck them down and dread filled her belly. Four more Wysteria shades came to life. This wasn’t working. A tint of blue was spreading over the Highlander’s face. If this fight continued any longer, she wasn’t going to make it.

_ I have to finish this with the Crimson Lotus. It’s my only chance. _Wysteria thought.

The shadows knew her plan the moment she made the first step. They pounced upon her before she could finish the Limit Break. She pushed them back, slicing and dicing as she spun around with her chakrams, but it only made things worse. Both targets were struck and four more copies emerged from the broken corpses. They taunted her, circling the Highlander.

“Ignorant of your sin but it eats away at your heart all the same.” 

“The bat-eared fox licks the great lion’s paw.”

“The prey longs for her hunter.”

“The thrill of being chased.”

“You want him to devour you.”

“To fuck you as he drinks your blood.”

“Filthy whore.”

“Slut.”

“Ugly.”

“Fat!”

“Stupid.”

“Coward.”

“Traitor.”

Zenos. Of course they would talk about him. Was this the sum of her guilt for pitying him? She didn’t know; she couldn’t think! What she needed was to breathe and she couldn’t. The dancer leaped out of the way before they could all pile on top of her. She had a new plan. Wysteria was specifically trying _ not _to kill them before she could gather them into a group. If she could kill them with one stroke, it would be over. They conveniently became more fragile. Every cut she dealt out brought more copies until Wysteria was up against an army.

“You envy his freedom.” They echoed one another, ringing in the warrior’s ears.

“He envies your heart.”

Wysteria fought with such savagery that she knew the crown prince would have been proud. Desperate to keep her clones away, she dealt brutal strike after brutal strike, cleaving limbs and breaking teeth. At one point, she bit the throat out of one shadow that tried to hold her down, staining her pure white gown with blood, a mark of her sin. Thankfully, Zenos wasn’t there to taunt her too. He would have loved this. Even now, she couldn’t keep him off her mind.

She cut through another dozen copies, causing more to spring up. There were too many. She couldn’t fight them all. They tried to restrain her and Wysteria held them back for a while, but their numbers eventually overwhelmed her. The doppelgängers forced her to the ground, pinning her limbs. They gathered around, beating and insulting her with vicious glee. The group parted to let another shadow through; however, this one was different. She wore no Ascian robes but a dark mirror of her own dress: a black that contrasted her white. This was the source of the Totentanz. She was the Totentanz. This was the one Wysteria needed to eliminate, and the others would fall like dominos.

“Don’t you see yet? You went too far this time. You’re too weak. Too forgiving. Some sins can never be washed away. You spit in the face of the fallen for what you’ve done!” The Totentanz said, taking the heel of her boot and stabbing straight through Wysteria’s hand. The warrior howled, jerking her hand away as the Totentanz ripped her foot back. “I hate you so much. I hate myself. I wish you would die. We aren’t worth it. We don’t deserve to go on living after what we’ve done.”

“What did I do?” She asked.

Her ebony lips moved, but the Warrior of Light could not hear her. “See? Not even your own words will reach you. Stop protecting him!” 

“Who?” 

“You know! You know exactly who, you idiot!” The Totentanz said.

The other shadows began speaking up, talking over top of each other as their voices echoed across the void.

“You’re a weakling.”

“We’ll end you and him.”

“Right here and now.” 

“Only then can we restore our honor.”

“This sin is unforgivable.”

“But we must try to repent.”

“You must pay the price!”

“Cleansed through harakiri!”

“Kami forgive me!”

“Rhalgar forgive me!”

They screamed and cried, pulling at their hair and ripping it out. It was terrifying. Even more so to see just how fucked up she was on the inside: pent-up emotions at their worst, a bottle she rarely opened for this very fear.

Wysteria broke free of one of her captors, swinging her leg around to kick the Totentanz right in the nose. The leader gasped, covering her bloodied face before promptly slamming her foot on the Warrior of Light’s stomach. The Highlander released a deep grunt, and she saw stars. The Totentanz brandished a short blade, a dagger that swirled with the purplish hue. 

“I’m sorry, Alphy, Ali… everyone, but I can’t trust myself. I love you all too much to sit back and do nothing. I’ll die before I become a puppet! I won’t play their game!” a tear rolled down her cheek as she bared her bloodied teeth. Wysteria braced herself as the Totentanz raised the blade up above her head with both hands. The shadow paused for a heartbeat before unleashing a shriek, bringing down the dagger upon the woman’s heart. She struggled, but it was no use. There were far too many clones holding her down.

Motion suddenly flashed before Wysteria, appearing as nothing more than a beam of crimson light. The Totentanz froze, the dagger resting an inch above Wysteria’s heart. Her face locked into a shocked grimace as a line split her down the middle, creeping through her as a crack would stone. “Don’t… do this.” her head split open, releasing a miasma into the air that clouded the warrior’s vision. “Don’t replace me with this fiend! You need me! Listen to me for once in your damn life!” the Totentanz fell back, parting the mists to reveal the one who had dealt the fatal blow. “You will regret this… traitor… traitor!” 

The Totentanz dispersed into smoke; her form barely recognizable from the dark seductress she once was. Ghostly claws ripped and tore at the warrior as her darkness made one last attempt to kill her. Pain followed quickly after and the Hyur seized up, . Her savior knelt down next to her, hand hovering over her chest. His eyes turned red and glowed as he channeled the power of the Resonant. Slowly, the darkness was drawn from the Warrior of Light and into Zenos, giving her immediate relief. 

_ Don’t. Please! No… NOOOOOOO! _The Totentanz screamed in her mind before it was suddenly cut off.

There was something off about the Garlean. His expression, the way he moved, it was stiff and robotic (more so than usual); it was as if his will was not of his own, lured into a trance. Wysteria could say the same of herself. Without thinking, she took his hand and pressed it against her heart, pulling him closer. The pain was fading quickly, leaving her numb.

Stars flickered to life around the prince, bathing him in a soft, golden glow. Wysteria mimicked his pose, resting her hand gently on his chest plate. The light answered her call and warmth flooded through her. It felt no different than attuning to an aetheryte, better even. It felt right. This needed to be done; although she didn’t understand why. Zenos didn’t stop her, watching her intently.

“What’s yours is mine.” They spoke in sync.

The streams of light and darkness eventually dwindled, and the prince stared down at his gauntlets. “And so the flow abates.” his fingers curled, balling into a fist. “I am not pleased with this lack of control. Can the soul truly overpower the mind and body so easily?” he looked to his prey on the ground, who was turning purple and sputtering about on the floor, gasping like a fish on land. “Enough.” Zenos ordered, throwing out his arm to the side.

The endless abyss receded and revealed the dancer’s cabin room once more. Free from the void, Wysteria realized that she was being strangled by her own hands. Wincing, she released herself and coughed. The bruises were already forming, leaving violet, blotchy spots on her pale skin. She’d have to think of a way to convince the twins not to tie her down to the bed. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what they needed to do.

“Bravo!” Zenos offered her a mocking, slow clap. “Bravo, my friend. Such a glorious show, a feast for my eyes in this dull, hollow place.” he grinned, wickedly. “What a feral beast you are when pushed to the edge. My only regret is that it was not I that triggered you.”

“Why?” She asked. 

“I refuse to allow another to steal my quarry. That includes you.” Zenos said. “The fires of your spirit are dim, but they yet burn hot even under pressure. You shall become that blaze of ferocity I desire to see once more. My perfect beast, my prey.” he studied his blade that dripped with black ichor. “‘Tis curious that my hand can now banish your hallucinations. Our bond deepens, and we cast aside our sense of self. We become one, just as you desired.” Zenos said before he sheathed his weapon. “It seems we have no choice. I will draw the darkness from you, and you my light. There is no turning back.”

“Draw out… draw out your light?” She asked, squinting.

“Precisely.”

The Warrior of Light wiped her face with her sleeve. Her lower lip quivered as she gave him a pitiful look. “Z… why… I don’t—” she burped and caught the scent of magic and chicken broth. She swayed as if her brain was sagging on her spine. Two blurry princes stood before her.

“Do try to watch your—“ Zenos was interrupted by Wysteria vomiting over the side of the bed. “Aim.”

Sapphire dribbled down her chin as she looked up at the viceroy, tongue hanging out and stained with aether. The vomit itself was neat to look at it. You couldn’t ask for more aesthetically pleasing puke. Wysteria was a pretty pathetic sight, and the Garlean flared his nostrils in disgust.

“Thank you.” she whispered, voice hoarse from gagging. “If you weren’t here…” 

The man chuckled dryly. “You fervently deny me only to turn around and profess gratitude for my presence?” the Warrior of Light responded by curling up into a ball and breaking into an ugly cry, staining her pillow with tears and snot. Zenos scoffed at the sad sight. “I almost prefer you in your feverish delirium. You at least take me seriously like this. It will not last. Nay, you will go straight back to clinging to your delusions.” he let out a soft sigh. “Your light has faded and the madness of this fever grips you once more. You are too exhausted to think, and by extension, so am I. Cease your howling. Close your eyes. Relax. This spell will pass and when it does, you will compensate me.”

“H-how?” She whimpered.

“With violence, naturally, and you will fight as savagely as you did just now. Understood?” Wysteria nodded. In her condition, she probably would have said yes to anything. “Very good.” Zenos covered a yawn. “How I loathe this weakness, but we cannot help it. Come. We shall embrace slumber together.”

His form vanished, leaving the Highlander alone. The woman continued to fight sleep a little longer until she felt as if she was grabbed by the hair. With a firm tug, the force pulled her through the mattress and she splashed into the dark water below. The last thing she remembered was a soothing warmth wrapping around her body before she passed out. 

When Wysteria awoke in the morning, her brow was slick with sweat and her hair stuck to her skin. Finally, her fever had broken, and she was herself again. The woman groaned, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked around. She spied the vomit in the wastebasket and winced. Fortunately, she hit her target this time. Her memory of the dream was vague. She remembered fighting herself and Zenos helping her, but the details were hazy. It was a fogged mirror that became more obscure with each swipe of her hand.

“Draw out my darkness. Draw out his light. We can’t control it? Why? What does that mean?” she grumbled.. “Nothing. It’s dumb. Stupid, weird nightmares. Why do I humor this crap?”.

It was more wishful thinking, yearning that things had been different… that she and Zenos could have been friends, that he hadn’t been the evil man he was. If he could have just been a great fighter and not a lunatic, he would have been a great friend. The perfect best friend. She shrugged it off as nothing more than another crazy nightmare.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set a goal of writing 5,000 words per chapter so you all have about ten pages to read. As a present, I added 4k more so you have five more pages.
> 
> This has feels or at least that was the intention. Wysteria has dialogue that's so cheesy it makes Kingdom Hearts cringe, but that's just her character.

As was their observant nature, the Leveilleur twins noticed the bruises on their primal slayer’s neck almost immediately. The mittens were back and would stay on for the foreseeable future. This led to a long discussion between the three, one where Wysteria barely got a word in. They debated whether one of them should stay behind in Kugane to watch her. Being the best of the two with healing, Alisaie quickly pointed out Alphinaud would be the best candidate. The brother countered that it was the red mage who would have a better chance of stopping the warrior should she try to cause herself harm. She took no offense, but the Hyur could tell that neither one of them wanted to stay behind. Not that she could blame them. Sitting at home, being domestic, not fighting monsters and fiends—the horror… the boring, mundane horror. Maybe she could at least talk her brother into arm wrestling. That might hold her over for a whole three seconds.

Wysteria tried to place a hand to her neck only for the enchantment Aphinaud placed upon her necklace to repel it. It reacted to the magic within the threads of her mittens, creating an effect similar to pushing magnets of the same poles together to provide her extra safety. It made her skin itchy, and she couldn’t scratch it. This was the seventh layer of hell. 

“Um, isn’t this a teeny tiny bit exces—“ the twins abruptly cut her off.

“No!” The Elezen said in unison.

“—sive? Okay.” Wysteria said before biting her lower lip. 

“Just when it seems like you’re improving, you take another setback.” Alisaie said, pinching the bridge of her nose. The Elezen gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Wysteria. We cannot risk anymore incidents like this. I want to trust you, I really do, but these bruises prove that we should continue to take precautions, no matter how well you might be feeling.” if the risk taker of the two wanted to be careful it conveyed how worried she was for the Hyur. It wasn’t often that Alisaie showed her affection, and Wysteria cherished those little moments.

“How does she look?” Alisaie asked her brother.

Alphinaud was inspecting the Warrior of Light with the Sharlayan goggles. Twisting the knob on the side, he removed them and let them hang around his neck. “Better than when we left Eorzea.” he looked to the patient. “Considering the tint of blue on the bedsheets and the bile crystallizing as we speak, your body has purged a good amount of aether. Do you feel better?”

Wysteria pondered upon the question before she answered. “It’s hard to tell. I’m still drowsy from the medicine, and I’m not a morning person.” she placed a hand on her stomach as it rumbled loudly. “Oh uh… well, then again, this is the first time I’ve felt hungry since waking up from the coma.”

“You have definitely improved.”

“Even the void spot Y’shtola mentioned?” The dancer asked.

The young Elezen cupped his chin in thought. “Out of all the elemental aspects, your void and light aether appear to be in the best condition. They are almost at healthy levels and attuned to your spirit. They are blending quite well and…” Alphinaud continued, but another voice spoke his thoughts and distracted the Hyur. She zoned out as the room emptied, the twins vanishing much like Y’shtola had back at the Rising Stones. 

“Willing flesh to blend the souls.” Zenos mused, as if quoting a poem. Turning her head, she saw that the Garlean was at the foot of the bed, sitting with his back to her. He reached out and grasped the air. “Cast out half to become—“

"Are you okay?” The Elezen’s voice yanked her back into reality. 

The Hyur blinked several times and looked up at Alphinaud. “Yes. What were you saying?”

The boy gave her a concerned look but didn’t press her. “I said the levin and gravity aether disrupting your balance has dwindled exponentially. If it continues to do so, you should be walking again in a week.”

“Twelve and kami be praised!” She said, clasping her hands together. The thought of walking down a short corridor excited her at this point. The adventurer just wanted to move; it didn’t matter where. 

Alphinaud gave her a wry smile. “I know being cooped up like this isn’t the most thrilling.”

“I would have lost my sanity already if it were me.” Alisaie said before a grimace took over her face. “If only it was me lying here instead of you.”

“N-no! Please don’t say things like that.” Wysteria said. “I was reckless that day. You know how much I was itching to fight Zenos, and he dragged me up to that aetherial plane willingly… kinda. I would have chased him down even if he hadn’t. Now I’m paying for it.” she reasoned with a shrug. “My luck was bound to run out, eventually. I’m going to be okay. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” the Warrior of Light flinched at her words. “You died, Wysteria. Do you understand? You were dead. I saw you. We all saw you...” Alisaie had raised her voice, growing more emotional with each word until she took a deep breath to control herself. “Forgive me, I…” the Elezen spoke softer. “When it happened, it felt like the world came to a crashing halt. We wasted precious seconds because we couldn’t believe or accept your death. Not you. Not our Warrior of Light. It couldn’t be possible. That’s what we were thinking, slack jawed and dumbfounded like the fools we are.” she clenched her fists, and Alphinaud placed a hand on her shoulder. “We asked too much of you— Pushed too hard and this is the result of our folly.” 

The Highlander shook her head. “The empire forced all of us to push ourselves beyond the limit. Liberty or death. I was prepared to put my life on the line just like everyone else—to free Ala Mhigo.” she said. “Even if I had foreseen getting sick, I still would have pursued Zenos. I had to fight him alone. Any other way would have put more lives at risk. Besides,” she gave Alisaie a sheepish smile. “Zenos made it personal when he dared to lay a hand on my friends.”

Alisaie looked down at her feet. “I know. I know that. If the bastard could sacrifice his own men in the name of his so-called hunt, then he was capable of anything. I only wish we could have done more.”

The room grew quiet. Awkwardly quiet, and Wysteria felt like she had to break the silence. “Was I really dead?”

The Elezen shared a look before Alphinaud spoke. “The aether you absorbed continued to build, swirling around your chest until it burst. It surged throughout your body, forcing you into cardiac arrest. By all logic, it should have destroyed your organs. That you are even awake should have been impossible. It took the combined magic of Y’shtola, Krile, and myself to revive you, and hours of channeling to stabilize you thereafter.”

The Warrior of Light gripped the fabric covering her chest. “Thank you. You’ve taken such good care of me. I can’t tell you all enough.” she then let out a chuckle. “It’s hard to believe. I’ve fought so many battles and enemies. Hehe… It’s kind of funny. Of all the things that could have killed me, it was aether poisoning.” the two didn’t join in. “Dying at the hands of Zenos would have left me with some dignity.” Her attempt at lightening the mood ended in failure. The twins didn’t even offer a fake laugh. It was probably too soon to jest about her death, and most of the Scions weren’t a fan of dark humor, except maybe Thancred.

“We are glad to still have you with us, Wysteria.” Alphinaud said. The woman’s stomach rumbled again, and she wrapped her arms around it. “Oh, right! I almost forgot. What would you like to eat?” He asked.

“Something solid would be nice for a change.”

“If you think you can handle it. What did you have in mind?”

“Dango and mochi.”

“That’s too sweet! At least make a moderately healthy choice.” He scolded.

“Please, brother. I think she’s more than capable of keeping down a treat or two.”

“Then you won’t mind cleaning up the vomit that will surely be inevitable.”

“‘Twould be best. My senses are like iron. You are the squeamish one, gagging at the slightest whiff of an unpleasant smell. You would only add to the mess.” Poor Alphinaud never could get a sassy remark over on his sister.

Wysteria stifled a giggle for the boy’s sake and told him what she actually wanted to eat: ogura toast—not an Eorzean dish, but it couldn’t be too hard for a westerner to throw bean paste and butter on bread. It was a solid but simple meal, which seemed like the perfect reintroduction to solid food. With nausea, Wysteria wasn’t adventurous walking the line. She hated the sensation of a sick stomach, and vomiting was a rough experience she’d trade in for a primal punch any day. 

Alphinaud approved of the choice, and he left to put the order in to the cook. In the meantime, she conversed with Alisaie. They poked fun at the scholar behind his back, innocent and in good jest until he returned. When they departed, and she finished her toast, Wysteria picked up the small toy chest on the nightstand. She played Slide 1+14 even though she wasn’t particularly good at it. The goal was to rearrange a set of mixed numbers from one to fourteen and put them in order. The Hyur wanted a challenge, any kind of challenge to sate her thirst for adventure. It wasn’t an exciting one, but she’d take what she could get. She had only moved three tiles when Zenos spoke. 

“If you had failed but entertained me, rest assured the finest taxidermist would have seen to your corpse.” the warrior snorted and looked up to give him a glare. Zenos stood by her beside, towering in all his fully armored glory. The hallucination always wanted to remind her how small and inconsequential she felt next to him. The corners of his mouth twitched, pleased with her reaction. “On display in my villa; forever pristine and young. I would gaze upon you and reminisce, dwelling on the potential you had for a beast worthy of the hunt. You would have made an interesting conversation piece.” 

His words caused a flurry of goosebumps to travel down her skin. That seemed like something the freak would do. _ Oh, joy. I feel much better and not creeped out at all. _ She thought, looking back down at her game. Maybe the vision would take the hint and go away. That tactic hadn’t worked yet, but she would not give up on it either.

“I thought you might like that.” He said. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the bed sank down with the man’s weight, or so it seemed. She reached out and smoothed her hand along the surface of the clean sheet. It phased right through him. There wasn’t a tingle or even the slightest hint of pressure. Maybe she was getting better, and she reassured herself that the fallen prince was an illusion and nothing more. Zenos huffed when the dancer went straight back to ignoring him. She tried to focus on Slide 1+14, but the Garlean was distracting her. He was too close, and she did not like him watching her play over her shoulder. The bastard was practically breathing down her neck with that intense gaze boring into her, scrutinizing her every move. Zenos was quiet and only spoke up to comment on how abysmal she was at the puzzle. He wasn’t wrong, but it made the Warrior of Light even more determined to beat her next time and prove him wrong. Why was it she could accept she was a moron, but when Zenos suggested it, she wanted to fight back? 

“You have rearranged those same four tiles around the board ten times with no results. Does it hurt being so incompetent?” He asked.

Wysteria pursed her lips into a pout before sticking out her tongue and blowing a raspberry. Unfortunately, she blew a little too hard and caused a string of spit to fall onto her gown. The woman let out an “Eep!” and covered her mouth as her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. Embarrassed over nothing. She knew there was no one there. 

Zenos quirked a brow. “You can barely stand yourself. Mayhap I should have killed you when we first met. As a mercy.”

Gods, he was the most insufferable hallucination. If the son of a bitch was real, she would have happily wiped her slobber all over him. That thought made her snicker. 

************* 

Wysteria kept her mind busy throughout the rest of their journey. During the day she read books, talked with the twins, or played mini games. At night, she only fought with Zenos yae Galvus. Just as before, it was fun, and their battles ended in a tie or with him or her barely winning. She also made sure not to turn her back on him while they fought, ever. She’d learned her lesson from before, and a harsh one it had been. The results of their battle didn’t seem to matter to either of them. Zenos wanted her to fight like a beast consumed with fury, and she indulged him, striking with all the bloodthirsty rage she could muster. Although it was all fake, it felt good to move and swing her weapon. The only bad thing was that when she wanted to rest, the hallucination of Zenos would never give her the opportunity to do so. 

In the menagerie, they fought. The Warrior of Light spun and twirled out of the way of his strikes—if only barely, but that’s what made it so thrilling. He was so close to hitting her it made her heart leap each time she felt the breeze created by his blade skimming a centimeter above her flesh. Zenos lunged and caught her by the wrist as she came in too close, swinging her around towards the palace wall with seemingly little effort. Soaring through the air, she grabbed onto a ledge and pulled herself to safety. Had she fallen, a tarry substance that glowed red awaited her below. It appeared connected to Ame-no-Habakiri’s power or the Resonant; the dancer didn’t know. She just knew she did not want to touch the stuff. 

“I have to stop setting him up to do that.” she said under her breath. Rather than hop back down into the action to take her revenge, Wysteria took a breather instead. She needed it. This man didn’t stop. “One minute.” she said, holding up her index finger. “My lungs are on fire.”

“No. We have only just begun.” he said with a soft pant accompanying his words. Wysteria was the complete opposite. She was a huffy, sweaty, and red-faced mess. “Can you not feel it, hero? This euphoria! Oh, how it fills me. ‘Tis an addictive sensation: the rush of blood, my heart pounding with such fervor I feel as if I can hardly draw breath!” he sighed, relishing the moment before he continued. “This arrangement of ours has proven to be obnoxious; ‘tis true, but I do so enjoy the dances we have shared thus far. You love it as much as I do. Your savage instinct will not allow you to be idle while there is still more blood to shed.”

Wysteria’s brow knitted together. “You’re right. I love fighting you. It’s so much fun! I admit it, but we are four hours into this, Z. Kami forefend, don’t you ever get, you know, tired?”

He approached the column she was perched upon, an intricate slab of stone that extended out from the castle wall. “I am exhilarated!” The Garlean wore that maniac smile that did not make her heart flutter but uneasy.

“You’re bonkers.” she whispered before she called down. “Come on. Let’s take five. You have a strand of hair out of place, my lord. Shouldn’t you fix that?” Wysteria said as sweetly as she could. It didn’t last as she grumbled soon after. “You perfect, angelic looking son of a biscuit eater. It’s not fair.” she caught a look at her disheveled self in the reflection of a nearby window and groaned at the sight. She was a wet paper bag next to Zenos, the artistic masterpiece. 

The man continued to stare at her as he tucked the misplaced lock behind his ear. “We have all night to perform, and I intend to make every second count. Come! Let us continue.”

A smirk curled her lips as the warrior realized something. She had the high ground and, oh boy, was she going to take advantage of it. “Hmm… nah.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Come down here and face me, savage.” He ordered.

The Warrior of Light faked a yawn. “I don’t really feel like it.” The adventurer reclined, crossing her legs as she folded her arms behind her head. It was fun to play with him like this. Telling him no really brought out how much of a spoiled brat he was. No doubt he didn’t hear it often because he could easily kill those who dared to utter it. 

“Then I will make you.”

Shocked, she bolted up. “You better n—”

With a single strike of his sword, the pillar came tumbling down. Zenos was ready for her, sheathing his katana as he prepared to make a deadly blow. The bastard would surely impale her if she didn’t think fast. Using a shield was her best option—a shield she should have used when their first dream battle ended with her arm being incinerated. Unfortunately, she could not create another one for several minutes. She’d have to pray that whatever Zenos pulled out next could be blocked by chakrams alone. Making a swaying motion with her arms, a shield crystallized around her as the viceroy lashed out. The shield made a “tink” sound as it contacted the metal and bounced her away from her enemy. The Warrior of Light slid, gathering scuffs on her palms as she fought to change the state of her inertia. 

“No more distractions. Give me something to remember! Give me more!” Zenos bellowed. The prince was nearly frothing at the mouth, a rabid dog hungry for blood.

The Highlander sighed, wiping away the sheen of dust from her sweat slick forehead. She smirked. “You really are bonkers, Z. So very bonkers.” 

Their steel clashed once more, and the warriors pushed against each other, eyes alight with violent ardor.

“That word grates on my ears.” He said.

“What word?” She said, fluttering her lashes to give herself that innocent babydoll look. Not that she was very good at it; her Midlander blood cried for it to succeed, but it wasn’t pronounced enough in her Highlanderequse features to do so. Not that it would affect Zenos either way.

“Don’t play coy with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said.

Zenos frowned. “Bonkers. Stop saying it.”

“But you just said bonkers.” The Warrior of Light giggled. “Silly goose.”

“You are testing my patience, beast.” With a single heave of his sword, he shoved Wysteria back. She countered and weaved through his multitude of strikes, most too close for comfort until he eventually nicked her across the cheek.

Wysteria hissed out through a smile, refusing to let off on her assault. “Yep! And you have a C minus which is passing, but I know you can do better. I may even give you bonus points if you meow like a cat.” another strike and another twirl to evade death. “Come on! This is my dream. Be a little kitty-cat, Z. Purr pretty boy! Purr!” the Highlander ducked under the katana again before she performed an arabesque and attempted to tickle him under his chin. “Or should I give you a little scritch-scratch first?” 

Her finger barely grazed his skin before a burst of powerful energy pushed her away. Ame-no-Habakiri glowed with that creepy crimson aura she knew all too well. Zenos was enraptured in this fight, and he had no desire to endure his beast’s silly antics. Not that she wasn’t having loads of fun herself; Wysteria was having a blast! Each fight she shared with dream Zenos was better than the last, and this one was the best yet. Even so, it was very exhausting to keep up with him. How she could even feel exhaustion was another mystery. Maybe her brain was just tired of coming up with all the excessive details, and this was how it translated into her fantasy land. Wysteria didn’t exactly know the details of lucid dreaming. 

Their battle continued, and the menagerie suffered for it. They trampled the flowers, destroyed decorative pottery, and cracked the surrounding stone. After throwing her chakrams from behind her back, she dashed towards Zenos. He blocked both discs faster than she expected, and it forced Wysteria to duck and slide under his katana. Her weapons returned to her, and she performed the last of her current dance steps, breaking into a spin that created a burst of magic. Gold, red, and green ribbons of light flowed out from her and spiraled towards Zenos. She got him! He dug his heels into the dirt, trying to resist the strength of the blast, but that didn’t prevent him from sliding to the edge of the garden. His armor struck the rail with a satisfying “clunk” and Wysteria smirked. The warrior kept up the pressure, taking more cuts than she would have if she had been more careful, but she couldn’t let this opportunity slip. He was so close to the edge, and if she could hit him just right, Zenos would fall into the Lochs. 

It would hardly be easy. The viceroy had plenty of tricks up his sleeve and was all too eager to show her. Zenos kicked his opponent in the chest, and Wysteria cursed as the bastard got her right in the nipple. It nearly took the breath out of her. It’s what she deserved for being too stubborn to wear a breastplate. The Garlean prince stepped up on the rail and held out his arms, challenging her to come for him. He knew exactly what she wanted and taunted her with it, dangling himself before her like a piece of candy. The Warrior of Light took the bait, charging for him. When she heard a mechanical click, she came to a skidding halt. Zenos sheathed Ame-no-Habakiri, and she immediately moved her gaze to the sword holster at his side. It spun for a good two seconds, and the Highlander retreated, aiming to avoid whatever he was about to dish out. Zenos predicted her movements, and as the device came to a stop, he drew two swords and launched them into the air. Fully charged with a mysterious power, they landed at Wysteria’s left and right. She flipped backwards before they could explode with wind and levin only to realize too late that he was herding her into a corner. As if one Zenos wasn’t bad enough, there were now two more added to the fight. She forgot that he could manifest reflections of his power. They struck her from both sides and far too quickly for her to consider evasion as an option. She blocked, one chakram holding off the left attacker and the other the right. Now she was wide open for the true hunter who had vanished. Wysteria growled and cursed herself for letting him lead her into an obvious trap. Losing sight of Zenos in battle was the worst thing she could do. Dread welled up in her stomach.

_ Hardly the well-rounded beast, are you? _

Although Wysteria was neither a tank nor a glass cannon, her disciplines leaned lower on the defensive spectrum. That was what her parents had taught her, and her experience adventuring cemented that fighting style within her. The Warrior of Light was all about offense. Block only when you can’t run was her philosophy.

_ Your agility is impressive; there is no debating that, but relying on it over much has placed you in a precarious position. I am curious to see if you can prance your way out of this one. _ His voice echoed in her mind.

“Cheater.” she grunted out as she looked up, struggling to keep the two shadows at bay. “Bring it on, princeling! I’m so.... so ready that I... c-could break my teeth smiling at the mere... thought of smashing your face in!”

Zenos drew his sword again, but she couldn’t discern his location. He would cleave her in half if she stood still, and if she tried to dash away, he’d come out and catch her. There wasn’t enough aether in her to perform another shield samba so soon. Wysteria would have to step outside of her comfort zone and respond differently. Dream Zenos knew her well enough to know her go to for survival. So, she had to pick something he wouldn’t expect. Her arms shook as they strained to hold the reflections off. Her mind remained blank. The Warrior didn’t know what to do.

“Nothing to show me, hero? Hmph. A pity. I suppose it was too much to ask you to think creatively. Alas.”

Zenos stepped out from behind a pillar and casually made his way towards her before raising his blade and breaking into a run. The air sang as the point of Ame-no-Habakiri cut through it. Adrenaline snapped the reins on her blue screened brain and an idea suddenly came to her. It wasn’t the safest bet, but it was the best the Highlander could come up with. The dancer channeled aether into her chakrams. The metal that formed her weapons snapped straight and bloomed with peacock feathers. The newly emerged fans trapped the blades of the illusions. Zenos was right in front of her now, blade racing straight for her chest. With an unladylike grunt, she twirled and exerted all the strength she could into a fan dance. Zenos lost sight of her, his vision obscured by a whirlwind of feathers. They destroyed the clones, leaving the dancer free to defend herself. Ame-no-Habakiri came within an inch of her face as she raised her fan to snap the blade between it. Wysteria went cross-eyed as she stared at the tip. These close calls were getting to be a bit too much for her anxiety, fighting to overpower the joy of her adrenaline rush. 

The Warrior of Light followed up with another attack, swinging a bladed fan for his throat. He drew a second katana from his scabbard and deflected the strike.

Zenos chuckled. “Well done, my beast. I am proud of you.”

Wysteria felt her cheeks turn red and momentarily lost her focus. “O-oh. Well, thank—” foolishly, she released some slack on her fan.

Zenos did not hesitate to take advantage of this. He swung for her throat as she briefly let her guard down. It sliced her other cheek as she scarcely dodged the blow.

“So easily flustered by praise.” The viceroy scolded.

The Warrior of Light growled something incomprehensible, frustrated by the truth of what he said. That a little compliment could distract her like that was humiliating. She would not fall for that again. The warriors pushed back against one another, releasing the lock on their weapons. Wysteria’s fans shifted back into chakrams, and she released a barrage of attacks against the prince, so intense and brutal that she was inching him back towards the ledge again. 

Zenos grinned wickedly as he saw the fury that filled his beast. “Troubled?” He asked as he continued to step back, blocking every attack she made, which only irritated the woman further.

“You… y-you manipulated me!” she yelled. “Getting inside my head and just—gah! I should have known better.”

“‘Twas not my intent. Yes, your reaction played out to my advantage, but make no mistake; I spoke true, my friend.” Zenos sounded genuine, but truth or not, she wouldn’t fall for his flattery a second time. “That you deflected in such a manner rather than running away was impressive. I did not believe you had it in you to do more than frolic. It seems you are capable of critical thinking when put under pressure; despite your lack of intelligence.”

“Grr… save it! I won’t blush at your flowery words again.”

“Good. Then you have learned from your mistake.”

“You’ll regret toying with me.”

“Then show me your true power. Take all your anger, all your hatred, and strike out against me!”

The warriors fought, exchanging blow for blow. Blood flowed freely as they became increasingly reckless with one another, cutting deeper into their opponent at the cost of their own skin. Zenos limited the battlefield further by stepping up on the rail once more. Wysteria followed him, accepting the challenge. She figured a foot wide of stone was all the space she needed to stand toe to toe with the Garlean. It was harder than he made it look. His size did not affect his balance, and she did not understand why. Envy burned in her chest as she watched him seamlessly blend grace with ferocity.

The Garlean made a feint to draw the Warrior of Light in, swinging his katana one way before veering to the other in a crescent motion. Wysteria jumped back to evade and in doing so lost her balance. She gasped as she swung her arms around in a circle, fighting to regain her footing. Zenos raised Ame-no-Habakiri to take his victory.

Her mind worked quickly to think of a solution. She could either let herself fall and lose, or get stabbed and also lose. Neither was preferable. 

Her focus landed on the free, golden locks that lay upon his armor. Just before the prince could bring his full weight to bear on the katana, Wysteria latched onto his hair with both hands and yanked. If she couldn’t win tonight, the Warrior of Light would make sure Zenos didn’t either! 

“Clev—“ His words fell short as he fell head over heels off the balcony with Wysteria. There was a rock jutting out of the mountain that smashed right into his temple before he could even think to stop his descent. The man went limp instantly. Had she not been falling too, Wysteria would have been in awe to see Zenos yae Galvus flopping like a rag-doll. Everything went black as she met a similar fate.

Groaning, the Warrior of Light came to and took in her surroundings. It was dark and steadily growing more so. The sun was shining down from above, its rays struggling to penetrate through the water. At first, she assumed she was in the salt-filled lake, but the glow of colorful fish and coral debunked that. This was the Ruby Sea, and judging by the huge abyss beneath her, she was sinking into the deepest part of it—the Turquoise Trench. Her vision was blurry, but she could barely make out Zenos below her. With armor as bulky and heavy as his, it surprised her he wasn’t already at the bottom of the ocean. 

Although she was dizzy and weak, the Hyur swam towards her enemy. It took a while, but she eventually reached him. As her hands wrapped around his neck, his eyes flew open. She took a deep breath, relieved that she could, and rasped out the words.

“I… win…”

His hands clutched around her wrists so fast she hardly saw them move. He was not accepting defeat yet. Their weapons were gone, stranded on the mountainside or on the seafloor beyond reach. They devolved into animals: grappling, scratching, and biting at one another. They struggled, stirring up bubbles and algae as they did so, until Zenos finally heaved a sigh—or tried to. The adventurer squeezed his throat harder and cut him off, not allowing a single air bubble to escape his lips. She leaned in closer to his face and growled.

“I said I win!”

His vocal chords vibrated beneath her palms, and she relaxed her grip just enough so he could talk. Zenos laughed and beamed up at his prey. “Good. Very good, my friend. I yield.” the warm metal of his gloves trailed down to her bare ones, holding them gently to his throat. “Take your victory. You have earned it.”

Every time. He did this to her every time she won. Zenos was asking her to kill him. She could feel his pulse racing, speeding up beneath her fingertips. Did this really excite him? It made her feel uneasy, and it only got worse each time. Wysteria had taken many lives in her adventuring career, and it was not a feat she was proud of. Defeating villans, putting them in their place, and fulfilling justice, yes; she was proud of that, but not the life she had taken. Sometimes there was no other way. More often than not, her enemies left her no choice. As much as she wanted to, it was impossible to incapacitate every foe with a few good smacks and convert them to the side of good with a motivating speech.

When Wysteria did nothing, Zenos frowned. “Why will you not grant me this one, simple request? This is but a so-called simulacrum to you, yes? If you refuse to accept I am real, then at least give me this.” he said, trying to manipulate the Hyur to get his twisted way. “It will not be a true death just as yours was not. There is nothing to lose. Do it.”

Wysteria could not answer right away, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “Y-you’re right. This isn’t real. You aren’t real. I know it’s a dream, and it doesn’t affect the waking world, but I won’t do it. It’s not right. I will not kill you, Zenos. Never.”

He was unhappy with her response. “Tighten your grip and watch the light fade from my eyes.” it amazed her how he could say that so calmly. “Sink those fangs into my jugular, drink deep and savor the blood upon your tongue—“

“Please, don’t say things like that, Z. It makes me sad.”

The Garlean scoffed. “It makes you sad? You denied me the death I wanted, that I deserved.”

The Warrior of Light tilted her head. “What?”

“A warrior’s death: slain by my equal in combat, to drop the curtain on our performance with a barbaric execution, my head under your foot or waved around before the savage masses. Oh, it would have been a grand display. Perfect. And yet, you stood there, ever the noble hero and refusing to claim your prey. You left me no choice but to take matters into my own hands. It was too much to hope that you would have the stones to kill me.”

Wysteria remembered the blade being set against his throat, the resolve and sadness she saw in his expression as he took his own life. It lined up with the delayed Echo vision. Then again, the vision could have been nothing at all. She could only guess. 

One thing was certain: Zenos believed there was nothing more to life than violence. It was violence he obsessed over and loved, but to think that was all life offered must have been depressing. His life ended without truly experiencing it. He couldn’t. He was incapable of it, despite striving to obtain it. Even after everything he had done, she couldn’t help but pity him.

Her lower lip quivered as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t want you to! I… You didn’t deserve to die.”

“Ah, so it was spite that stayed your hand. Were you hoping to torture me yourself?” He asked.

The Warrior shook her head. “Nothing like that. Killing you would solve nothing. It would be a waste. It was a waste. Watching you take your own life… i-it was rough. It showed me how much you were suffering.” 

“Suffering? It was joy and relief that I felt. My hunt was finally at an end. I did not fear death. I welcomed it.”

“Gods, Zenos.”

The Warrior of Light didn’t like to think back on the details of the viceroy’s death. There had been so much blood spraying out of his throat; it was like a fountain and covered the flowerbed and white stone path with splatters. She’d seen it plenty of times during her adventures, but it never got easier. The expression of satisfaction on his face made it even more disturbing. Zenos really thought he had nothing else to live for.

She felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry. I should have done something. I should have tried to talk you down or rushed to tackle you like Lyse, but I just stood there, frozen and useless. I did the same thing with Haucherfaunt. I can never move when it really matters.” she glanced down to his neck, unmarked and smooth. “I wanted you to live and answer for your crimes, to use that intelligence and strength of yours to mend all the hurt you caused. It was the least you could do. I wanted to… I don’t know… I just wanted to—”

He interrupted her. “Fix me? To have me repent, lay down my blade, and swear off violence? And would you be the priestess to hear my confessions and punish me appropriately?” he spoke in his usual bored tone. “You truly are a delusional child.”

Wysteria scowled. “That’s not it. I hate the awful things you did. Just thinking about it infuriates me, but I wouldn’t force you to become a pacifist. Fighting is at the core of your being. I get that. If I could never fight again, I’d be really bummed. Hells, I’ve gone a month and a few weeks without it, and I feel like I’m dying. I know enough about you to understand that being locked up would drive you even more bonkers—” he groaned when she said the word he hated. “Um, I mean insane. More insane than you already are—were.” she hesitated for a moment as she decided what to say next. “As selfish as it sounds, having you as a sparring partner to challenge myself and keep me in shape would have been nice. If you could have tempered your impulses and not hurt others, you could have still been you. You could have done some good things. We could have been real friends and not whatever screwed up idea you had. Not that any of that matters, now. Zenos—the real one—he’s gone.” her hands trembled as she cupped his face. He watched her intently, tensing at the contact. “I meant what I said. I accept you, Zenos.” a faint glow ignited under her fingertips as she spoke, and the corner of the viceroy’s mouth twitched. Like before, the need to draw out his light was instinctual, and she pulled the aether into herself, not knowing or questioning what she was doing. Zenos did not object. 

“You would have your cake and eat it too.” Zenos got a good laugh out of that. “You live in a fantasy world disconnected from reality. You’re also pitifully naïve and overly optimistic. Tell me. Why do you believe I am here?” He asked.

Wysteria shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I keep seeing you because I need closure. I saw your pain and identified with it. I know what solitude is like, longing for a connection, and finally meeting someone that makes you feel alive. We are alike and yet so very different, Zenos. We are two sides of the same coin, yin and yang, shadow and light. If you were really here, I’d show you that life isn’t all about violence and death. There are plenty of good things, too. Ugh, I know that all sounds so silly and cheesy.” Her face was turning red again.

“That you would willingly cast all aside to protect and show me the "right” way to live. How foolish.” Zenos said. 

“Maybe it is, but it’s what I wish I could have done had you lived.” she said. “That’s what a friend would do, Z. I’d help you find a way to feel without being destructive. I um… I would be your hero. If you had let me.” As awkward as that was to say, Wysteria was happy she did.

They sunk further into the abyss, and the darkness closed in around them. Zenos did not laugh like she was expecting. “That altruism will be the end of you.” He warned.

“I don’t care. I’m just following my heart.”

“Oh, gag. Spare me the heartfelt confessions and sugary speeches.” he said, smirking. “‘Tis touching that you care so much for the wellbeing of your enemy that you would endanger your reputation and self. Idiotic and misguided though it is, I do appreciate your concern. Perhaps even relieved that you’ve kept me in your thoughts.” there was something genuine and yet sinister about his tone, but Wysteria quickly forgot it with his next action. Her body froze as he caressed her cheek with the back of his gauntlet. As he pulled away, a shadowy essence slithered between his fingers, pulled forth from the Warrior of Light. “Do you so long for my touch? To continue our contest? For our connection to be complete? Here you are, hiding the truth from the world and yourself. Shameless, little beast.” his voice lowered into a purr. “You have my deepest gratitude.”

An electric current surged throughout her body and curled into a white, throbbing heat in her core. And here she thought she wouldn’t fall for his pretty words again. Zenos could have been manipulating her, or merely teasing, but she didn’t care. Wysteria could resist her instincts no longer. It was wrong. It was so very wrong, and yet, her heart screamed for her to claim his mouth. One. One innocent, dream kiss that meant nothing. That was okay, right? No. She could not allow herself to do that.

“I can sense those rusty cogs struggling to turn.” He said.

“Huh?”

“Speak your mind, or better yet, show me.”

“Show you?” she whispered. “I shouldn’t…” slowly, ever so slowly, her hands drifted away from his face. Her fingers buried themselves into the billowy, gold, silk that was his hair and the Warrior of Light stared into his cool, azure pools. “Push me away. Tell me to stop. Tell me I’m a gross, mongrel, savage you want nothing to do with or whatever demeaning words you can come up with.” She pleaded. Her desire was irrational, and she felt that if Zenos opened his mouth to reveal how ugly he was, she’d be able to resist this need that was trying to take over her.

“As tempting as your offer is, I think not. Your voice quivers with desperation, but it is clearly not the terror which infects unworthy prey. No, I am too invested now. What is it you plan to do?”

The dancer turned her head and clenched her eyes shut. It was reckless to look away from him, especially after all the misfortune that came her way when she did so, but she had to do something. If she could hold out just a little while longer, maybe the fire would go down and she could think straight. Zenos took her chin and turned her head back to face him.

“Open your eyes.” they couldn’t find the strength to disobey because she wanted to look at him. So badly. She took a peek and immediately regretted doing so. The smile, the one she loved, rested gently upon his face. “Show me...”

_ Don’t say my name. _ She thought.

As if he read her mind, he added. “Wysteria.”

That was it. Her name flowing on his eloquent voice was the rock that shattered the glass cage she had locked herself inside. Cautious and gentle, her lips touch his; a quick peck. When she finished and looked down at him, his face was blank. The sea met earth and Wysteria saw bewilderment in the deep blue. The Hyur made a small gasp and gently stroked his cheek, brushing her calloused fingers along the smooth, fair skin. That look… he almost appeared vulnerable. Garleans could not use magic; it was true, but Zenos had placed a charm upon the Warrior of Light in that moment.

“Zenos…”

Dazed and infatuated, she was drawn to the Garlean like a moth to a flame. Wysteria could not hold back. The dancer kissed him again and channeled more passion. Hungry and desperate, she was a woman possessed by a desire to connect on a deeper level with her darker half. Zenos stiffened at the rougher contact, releasing a grunt as she smashed her lips harder against his. The man’s mouth remained firmly shut for some time until barely, oh so barely, following Wysteria’s motions. She could hardly tell he was responding—if you could even call it that. That lasted for a whole three seconds because the moment Zenos showed some reciprocation, Wysteria went from kissing to full on just eating his face. He drew his lips back like he’d just sucked on a lemon, but the Highlander was too absorbed in what she was doing to notice. His fingers curled and twitched, his arms rising and falling as he could not decide on how to act. Eventually, he snaked one hand to the back of her head and held on firmly. Wysteria’s heart fluttered. As they kissed, she took more of his light into herself while the legatus consumed the opposing force from her. 

Wysteria wasn’t a pro kisser, but she knew enough from researching trashy novels (she’d defend that excuse with her life before admitting otherwise) to know the process. Also, practicing with her hand and cooing, “Lord Hien” was helpful too. And now, she was kissing Zenos and not her supposed crush. Why? She could not think of an answer to that question; the only thing she knew was that the Garlean’s lips were soft, and that she wanted more. She had to have more. Hormones were stirring from their slumber, and they demanded that she take him right there. Wysteria pushed further, trying to use her tongue to invade his mouth. It was one step too many. Zenos finally reacted with what he knew best: violence. 

“Ahh!” She cried out as Zenos’s fingers dug into her scalp and ripped her head back, nearly giving her whiplash.

He smacked his lips before he scoffed. To think a single sound could sting so much. He held no expression, nor did he look directly at her. The man stared off into space and only tightened his grip when she attempted to slip away. Zenos was deep in thought, which was fine with her; However, he didn’t have to pull her hair out to do it!

This had been a bad idea. A horrible idea, just like the hug. The woman had not heeded the warning from her earlier experience. Dream Zenos would not accept her affection, nor would the real one. He would not morph for her hopeless romantic desires, to admit that he only wanted a girlfriend and then he’d become a good boy. Life didn’t work that way. Her suspension of disbelief was not strong enough. Zenos yae Galvus was a murderer, a manipulator, and cruel. He was an evil man devoid of emotion. Hells, he probably didn’t even comprehend the concept of love. It should have come as no surprise that he reacted in such a way, dream or not. His life revolved around the hunt and attaining that perfect fight, chasing death. Intimacy was not on that list. 

What she hated the most was that she wasn’t angry that he was holding her back like an animal. More than anything, he hurt her feelings. His rejection sank in like a knife carving into her chest. Sure, she got a bit overzealous and slobbered all over his mouth, but he didn’t have to be so mean about it. Then again, she also could have taken his hints. She felt dumb and pathetic. Zenos was the prince of a racist and xenophobic empire. To him, she was a mutt while he was a purebred hound with an impressive pedigree. She was lucky he didn’t puke the second she got within an inch of his face. 

Zenos eventually broke the silence. “This rush of emotion… this warmth… a dull ache that cannot be soothed easily. Yes, that much is certain.” he furrowed his brow. “Yours or mine? These feelings are tangled; far too tangled to be sure. ‘Tis familiar yet alien. Interesting.” his voice came out softer than she thought it would. He finally met her gaze. There was no anger or disgust; the only thing Wysteria saw was confusion. “Leave me.”

His grip loosened, and the Warrior of Light tore herself away from his grasp. She pushed off of his chest with her feet to propel herself upwards, creating a flurry of bubbles. Frantically kicking her legs, she raced towards the surface. Zenos did not give chase, staring after her as he sank deeper into the trench, fading into darkness. 

The moment the cool sea air touched her face, she awoke back in her cabin room. Her cheeks were wet, and she released a choked sob. She hated herself for shedding tears over him, a fake version of him at that. “I’m so stupid.” she whimpered, rubbing her eyes. “Why the hells am I crying? He’s not worth it. He’s not even real! This is ridiculous! Dumb, stupid… stupid, dumb nightmare. Stupid Zenos.” Even though she told herself this, the tears did not cease their flow. She was ashamed of her actions, for giving into her lust. “Why does it hurt so much? It makes no sense. I never knew him. Not really. He was just my enemy, an obstacle that stood in the way of peace.” the dancer could only think about her first kiss as a young teen and how her crush’s reaction had been the same as the prince’s. Being pushed away in the dream opened wounds from long ago, and she tried to convince herself that was the reason she was crying. She sighed and cradled her face in her hands. “Kami, help me.”

***********************************

Zenos did not speak or appear before the Warrior of Light the next day, nor the one after that. For the rest of the trip, Garlemald’s crown prince was absent. Wysteria remained alert, checking for the usual hints and tingles that he was about to show up, but he never did. When an entire week went by without a glimpse or snarky remark thrown her way, she accepted that he would not return. The other hallucinations she struggled with settled down, leaving her with only squiggles and swirls instead of hellish creatures. Wysteria took it all as a good sign and felt relieved that the hallucinations were going away. And yet, there was that burdensome feeling that remained in her chest, heavy and hard to swallow. The Warrior of Light refused to acknowledge it. The Zenos hallucination was no more. It was over. The bastard had disappeared for good and could no longer haunt her. That was fine. It was perfect.

Alphinaud and Alisaie continued to check the condition of her aether. They verified how Wysteria felt and were happy to tell her that her levels were continuing to descend to normalcy. They were happy that the weird dreams and hallucinations were no longer troubling their friend as they had before. Wysteria tried to convince them to take the mittens and necklace off, but they denied her just in case she had another incident. It would have been sad for them to say she was fine only for her to strangle herself in her sleep again. 

After a long journey, the airship finally reached its destination. The Scions couldn’t be happier to be on solid ground again, especially Wysteria. Her time in the stuffy cabin room was over. The twins brought the Warrior of Light above deck as the city came into view. It was late, and the soft, beautiful glow of lanterns twinkled like warm stars throughout Kugane. In the past, passing through the port town had been bittersweet when they were searching for a way into Doma. It felt like home was nearby, but she couldn’t return just yet. Now there was no more need for deception. The Warrior of Light could finally return to her childhood home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my WoW friend for being the beta for this chapter.

When their vessel docked at the airship landing, a courier was notified via linkshell to alert Wysteria’s family of her arrival. The Champion of Eorzea gave the flight crew her thanks for the safe and pleasant voyage before the twins escorted her to the elevator. 

“This will be an enlightening experience.” Alphinaud said as the doors slid shut. The device hummed to life, sending vibrations through their feet as the lift descended. “The Warrior of Light’s parents. That feels strange to say. She has parents.”

“Of course she does. Did you assume she just popped out of the aether one day? Need I remind you where babies come from, Alphinaud?” Alisaie asked with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

Alphinaud was quick to refuse and turned to hide the blush from his sister. “No! Definitely not.” he said with a brisk shake of his head. “I’ve known Wysteria for almost… let’s see, the last year of the Seventh Umbral Era is when we met, and I believe the month was the Fifth Umbral Moon. So, we have been working together for nearly four years now.”

“Has it been that long?” Alisaie asked. “I did not realize how much time had passed.”

Alphinaud looked down at the Hyur, sitting quietly in the wheelchair. The Warrior of Light wasn’t paying attention to their discussion; she was too busy making her carbuncle mittens kiss. The infuriating wool cages had been on her hands so long she figured she may as well name and give them a backstory to entertain herself. She’d concocted an interesting drama in her head and wondered if it would work as a good play. When she realized she had onlookers, she tucked her hands under the blanket and gave the twins a sheepish smile. 

“Our friend has always been a quiet and private person.” the Elezen continued, addressing the Warrior of Light directly. “Now that I think about it, these past few weeks have been the most I have heard you speak. Usually, your mind is always on the task at hand, or you are tripping over yourself to fulfill a quest—no matter how trivial it may seem. Anyroad, as I was saying: with the feats you’ve accomplished it is a little hard to imagine you were once a babe that needed care.”

Alisaie set a hand on her hip. “Yes, I suppose it does feel a tad surreal.” her focus shifted from her brother to Wysteria. “How does your family feel about you being a slayer of primals and tyrants?”

The Hyur let out a soft hum before she answered. “From their letters, they sound thrilled and honored. Oh, and nervous.”

“If they’ve heard any number of your perilous exploits, I will be surprised if they both have a full head of hair.” Alisaie said.

“Me too.” Wysteria replied, letting out a weak chuckle. 

They reached ground level and departed for the aetheryte plaza; there, they would meet her family. The twins took their time so as not to jostle their sickly friend about on the cobblestones. Wysteria had donned her hood again and kept her head down. There was always the risk of being recognized, and she did not want to have rumors spread about her condition in the Far East too. It may have been seen as overly cautious, but the Scions had suffered enough betrayals and traps to think otherwise. You couldn’t be too careful—even in Kugane. The incident with the greedy namazu, Gyodo, was proof of that. When she was well again, she could drop the discretion.

They wove through the people packed into the kogane market. Ijins and natives alike huddled around a single building: the famous Mujikoza theater. It had been a long time since Wysteria had seen a kabuki play and seeing the extravagant layout of _ Yakusha-e, _or woodblock actor prints, for sale was rousing her nostalgia.

Across the vermillion bridge that connected the market to the plaza lay the central aetheryte. Several people lingered nearby as others popped in and out of existence. He was garbed in the average Kugane fashion: a white hakama and a black haori over his kimono. When he noticed the three approaching, he waved his hand over his head in a big arch, far more enthusiastically than you would typically see from the reserved Hingan people.

Bouncing on his toes, he lunged forward and met the Scions at the edge of the bridge. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Hey! You made it! It’s been too long, big sis.” Wysteria’s brother said, grinning. The sound of his voice and the twinkle of youth in his hazel eyes revealed that he was more boy than man, and not much older than the twins. “Or should I say the great Warrior of—”

“I would ask that you not scream that information at the top of your lungs, please. Anyone could be listening.” Alisaie interrupted him and looked back over her shoulder. The samurai followed her gaze towards the market before he shrugged. “We do not want certain parties realizing her condition.”

“Isn’t that a bit paranoid?” He asked.

“No.” Alisaie deadpans and the samurai turned beet red, clearly intimidated by the Elezen... or charmed.

“Heh heh... Oops. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his head. 

Wysteria decided to speak, lest she risk being talked over. “Alisaie. Alphinaud. This is my younger brother, Ren.”

“Sure am!”

“Ren, this is Alisaie and Alphinaud. They’re my friends and a part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” they exchanged greetings while the dancer looked around. “Where is mama and papa? Did they not come with you?”

“Oh, you know. They’re rushing around the house in a panic trying to clean and prepare a full course dinner for you and our guests.” Ren held up a bamboo basket that smelled strongly of salt and fish. “Mama kicked me out, threw some koban at me, and said to bring you home and some dried seaweed.”

“A full course—but it’s nearly midnight!” Alphinaud said, taken aback. 

Wysteria sighed. Yes, she had seen this coming. Her parents always went above and beyond for visitors. Had she still been living at home, she’d have gotten the same treatment as Ren to run last second errands. 

“That’s just how they are. They aim to please.” he jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder. “There’s a skiff waiting for us at the docks to take us to Shirogane.” Ren said, beckoning them along.

“Shirogane? That is a small island just off the coast.” Alphinaud said. “Strictly for foreigners if I recall correctly.”

The Warrior of Light opened her mouth to speak, but Ren’s quick tongue beat her to it. Wysteria let out a soft “pfft”. Welp. Home sweet home. She and her brother had barely been around each other for a minute, and he was already sucking up all the air to talk. Unlike his sister, Ren had always been a confident speaker. Wysteria envied him for it.

“Kugane is open to ijins, but they still like to keep them separate from the natives. That’s why they have the Ijin District for visitors. Permanent ijin residents are a different story. Hingashi’s isolationist policy is strict and breeds xenophobia. They refuse to allow mama citizenship, so she’s still considered an outsider.”

“By law, they won’t even recognize our parent’s marriage outside of Kugane territory.” Wysteria added while her brother stopped to take a breath.

“That’s terrible.” Alphinaud said. “Alisaie and I are no stranger to xenophobia. ‘Tis a plague on our homeland and it continues to prevent our countrymen from connecting with the rest of the world as they should. Such biases will inevitably lead to ruin—so my grandfather believed.”

Ren winked at the boy. “Heh, I’m along that same line of thinking, fancy pants. I think we’ll get along fine.”

“Fancy pants?” Alphinaud grumbled, and Alisaie smirked.

Wysteria’s brother continued. “Papa used to live with the rest of his clan in northern Shishu. We’d be out there with them if we could, but Shirogane’s nice. When we were growing up, it was only us, and a few other ijin mixed families. Now there’re houses and adventurers like sis all over. They even put in an apartment complex! There are so many beautiful ijin girls running around. It’s great!” He gave Alisaie a sideways glance, and Wysteria could already see where his mind was looming. This would be interesting.

_ That’s a dangerous girl you’re eyeing there, little brother. You don’t have a chance in all the hells. _The dancer thought before saying. “I can’t wait to see. I’m glad the magistrate is allowing more ijin to purchase land. Creating foreign relations is good for Hingashi. I wish the rest of the nation could see that.”

After about thirty minutes, the isle of Shirogane came into view. Wysteria gazed upon the island, eyes wide with wonder. This was not the Shirogane she had left. Wild forests and plots of farmland had vanished, replaced with extravagant buildings both native to Hingahsi and foreign. In her youth, she remembered venturing out from the island and easily spying her family’s cottage nestled against the hill; now she couldn’t see it for the mansions in the way. Mansions. They were living around people who could _ afford _ a damn castle. If only she could manage her gil better...

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Ren nudged his sister. Wysteria was speechless.

“Judging by your expression, a lot has changed.” Alisaie said. “‘Tis charming, if not a bit crowded. Surrounded by rowdy adventurers. I hope it is not as loud as Mor Dhona.”

“‘Fortunately, Y’shtola used her magic to soundproof the Rising Stones.” Alphinaud said. “I highly recommend it. ‘Twould spare you the misery of hearing… whatever it is adventurers do in the middle of the night. No offense, Wysteria. You are the exception.”

“Trust me. We covered that before they swarmed in. It was chaos!” Ren said. “They were fighting tooth and nail to claim those spots. Never seen anything like it.”

“Woah…” the dancer finally conveyed a reaction. “So many houses. So many people…” she suddenly spun around to face her brother. “The onsen!” She panicked, worried that her favorite place on the entire island was crawling with ijin.

“Private. Mama ran like an oni was after her to make sure it stayed that way.”

“Thank the Kami. I’ve been looking forward to a nice long soak.”

“Speaking of baths, do westerners really bathe in their own filth like they say?”

“Ren!” Wysteria gasped, horrified. He needed a muzzle! “Shush! That’s rude!”

“Come on! I wanna know!” Ren stood up like the fool he was, on a skiff of all places. “Do you fill it up with water and get straight in?” he asked, looking straight at the twins. “You know, soap isn’t eno—“

What happened next was merely a reaction, a desperate attempt by her psyche to elude embarrassment. A light push on his back was all it took to set her brother off balance and hurtling into the sea. Splash! The passengers winced as salt water sprinkled down upon them.

“Wysteria!” Alphinaud jumped to his feet, almost falling off the boat himself. Alisaie caught him by his coat tail and yanked him back down. Ren popped up to the surface a few seconds later, coughing and sputtering.

“Hey!” he yelled. “What was that for?!”

“Was that necessary?” Alphinaud asked, bewildered by the Warrior’s actions.

Wysteria tugged the drawstrings of her hood to cover her burning cheeks and laid her head down on her lap. “I’m so sorry. Please, pay him no mind.”

“Better she than I.” Alisaie replied, crossing her arms. “‘Tis not the first time I’ve heard that silly rumor.”

“Should I… go back and get him?” The rower asked, staring back at Ren.

The Hyur shook her head. “Ren’s a natural in the water. Besides, we aren’t that far from the beach. He’ll make it to shore before we do and start plotting revenge.”

Although the skiff driver was unsettled, he did as he was told. Wysteria was furious at the boy, but she monitored him until he made it to shore. They hadn’t even made it to the house yet, and the siblings were already bickering. That was okay. Wysteria had missed her feisty little brother and their prank war.

Ren was waiting for them at the edge of the pier, soaking wet and arms crossed over his chest. 

“You just wait til you’re better.” He grumbled.

“I look forward to it.” Wysteria said, smirking.

“This way and keep up. Can’t have you getting lost.”

The Warrior didn’t think that was possible, but she soon realized he was right. So much had changed. With the winding paths and houses obstructing her view, she was clueless. Finding their residence wouldn’t be as easy as looking for a single red roof anymore. Finely laid stone replaced the path she had once traversed as a child, along with the crooked sticks and signs she had made to direct visitors to the shrine. The island was almost unrecognizable. 

The Scions followed the young samurai down the street, illuminated by an assortment of colored lanterns. As late as it was, there were still ijins bustling about, adventurers whose hearts rarely slept. Stores of all kinds lined the row, most of which were already closed, but a few tea shops and bars remained open, hosting several patrons that refused to turn in. So much had sprung up on the island. If she hadn’t seen it herself, she never would have believed this land was once untamed. 

Her parent’s residence finally came into view, and Wysteria’s heart soared. It hadn’t changed at all. The white brick, the red-tiled roof, and the ever blooming cherry blossoms that lined the river bend. Foxes of red, black, and white lingered nearby, wandering in from her family’s shrine. The moment they saw Wysteria, their eyes brightened. A pack of them came trotting towards her, only to freeze. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the glee in their furry little faces vanished. They scurried away, bolting in all directions. The Warrior of Light, being a delicate soul, felt hurt. That was not the response she had expected.

“So many foxes.” Alisaie said in awe. 

“Tame?” Alphinaud asked.

“Most of them are wild. A few others are spirits in disguise. Our family has always believed auspices live at the shrine, delivering our prayers to the kami.” Ren placed his hands together and bowed towards the hill. “The kitsune have always been close to our clan. It’s our sacred duty to tend to them. Sis used to do it before she left, and I took it up after. I’m sure they’ll be happy to get offerings from her again.”

“That explains why your surname means foxfire.” Alphinaud said. “I always wondered.”

“They’ve never run away from me like that before.” Wysteria muttered. “Did the wheelchair startle them?”

Her brother looked down at her, brows knitting together. “It’s been a few years, sis. Your scent probably caught them off guard.”

“They are sensitive creatures.” Alphinaud said, offering his own comfort.

The young woman nodded, “Right. I was just hoping they’d swarm around me like they used to. I missed that.”

“Once you take a bath and get that Eorzean stink off of you, I’m sure they’ll come running!” the boy looked at the twins, waving his hands in front of him. “N-not that you stink! You smell great! Best smelling ijin ever!” 

“Hmph.” Alisaie said, staring the boy down. Alphinaud shrugged at his sister, and the Warrior sighed. 

Ren hurried through the front yard and placed a hefty knock on the beechwood door. A high pitched barking came from inside, a chattering sound that was more reminiscent of a cat than a canine. The Warrior of Light could only think of one thing: _ Let the chaos begin. _

“Sanshou! Shhhh! Go on through the house. Takumi! They’re here! Did you lay out the fancy dishware?” A woman shouted from within, her shadow dancing upon the paper windows.

“Yes, Ingrid.” A man called back.

“Where is the good tablecloth?”

“That is the good tablecloth.”

“I bought a new one!”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“You were with me when I bought it!”

“Oops?”

“Kami forefend… that’ll have to do. We’re out of time.” the door cracked open, spilling light out into the night along with the smell of homemade food. Wysteria’s stomach rumbled. Oh how she had missed the scent of her mother’s cooking. 

“There you are!” the door opened wider, revealing a smiling and robust highlander lady on the other side. “Welcome home, my little fox kits.” she noticed Alisaie and Alphinaud and gasped. “The twins! Eeee! I was hoping to see them. They’re adorable! Please, please, come in. My husband just finished setting the table. Excuse our horrible tablecloth.”

Wysteria spotted her father in the back, mouthing the words. “It’s fine. Nothing is wrong with the tablecloth.”

You could tell right away where Ren got most of his looks from, as well as his quick tongue. Ingrid was tall, a head over her midlander husband. Her long, brown curls were pulled back into a braid and tied with a red silk ribbon.

Wysteria’s features were the complete opposite of her brother’s. The dancer favored her father: a beautiful, long-haired gentleman, short and slender with deep-set brown eyes. His androgynous-shaped face made it easy to mistake him as a woman and was the reason he excelled as an onnagata on stage. Wysteria wished she’d been born as a delicate beauty, but no. She had her mother’s highlander frame and her father’s short height, a combination she hated. 

The group moved inside, lifting Wysteria up so they could get the wheelchair over the front steps before setting her down. They had rearranged the furniture since she left, but there was nothing new beyond a few knickknacks. It was a cozy cottage of Hingan design, covered in far eastern decor and a touch of Ala Mhigan folk art. It was the perfect balance for a mixed heritage household.

“Ren, why are you soaking wet?” Takumi asked, taking the bamboo basket from his son. 

Wysteria didn’t give Ren a chance to answer. A rare phenomenon. “Hi, mama! Hi, papa! I missed you!” she held out her arms. In that moment, she realized just how much she had missed her parents. The tears the Warrior held back came all at once, breaking her stoic expression. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit sooner.” she whimpered. “I feel awful about it. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

Her mother and father approached her, kneeling down to pet and kiss on the daughter they had not seen in years. 

“Honey, no! No, no, no. Don’t be sorry.” Ingrid said.

“We understand. You did what you believed was best.” her father replied. “However, as we told you in our letters many times, we would fight through an army of imperials to see you. We can protect ourselves.”

“You know this better than anyone. We taught you how to fight, silly girl!” Her mother teased, poking her freckled cheeks.

“I know, but still, I didn’t want to bring you trouble.” Wysteria said.

Maybe they could handle themselves. Her parents were impressive fighters, but the Warrior had seen so many she cared about lost to war. Haucherfant was a great knight, Papalymo a powerful mage, and Gosetsu a master samurai. Circumstance dictated death more so than strength. She didn’t want to add her family to the list of the fallen.

“What matters is that you are here now. Dry those tears.” the matriarch gave her daughter one last head pat before looking at the Elezen. “I believe introductions are in order. I’m Ingrid and this is my husband, Takumi. Wysteria has told us so much about you.” Ingrid snatched the bag of goods from her husband and hurried over to the table where a delectable feast was waiting for him. She went about her work, placing the finishing touches on the meal. 

“Good things, I hope.” Alphinaud said.

“Of course, of course! Although…”

_ Mama, please. _Wysteria prayed her mother wouldn’t say anything more.

“She mentioned you were riding a very high horse when you first met.”

Wysteria’s face paled. “Mama!”

“Oops.” Ingrid looked over her shoulder. “Was I supposed to keep that a secret? I thought he was aware of his pompous behavior and amended himself.”

Alphinaud gave his friend a sidelong glance, cheeks flushed red. The dancer bit her lower lip and mirrored his color. “She… she was not wrong in her account, I’m afraid. When I first arrived in Eorzea, I was rather arrogant.”

“You were always arrogant. Experience has done much to humble you. Finally.” Alisaie said.

The boy scoffed. “I could say the same of you, sister.” For once, Alisaie had nothing to say and pouted. Alphinaud cleared his throat, and looked back at Wysteria’s parents. “It is an honor to meet you both.” He bent forward at the waist, demonstrating an eastern bow. Alisaie followed suit.

“You did not have to go through all this trouble just for us.” Alisaie said. “Although, it smells delicious.”

Ingrid flicked her wrist, dismissing the notion. "Pfft! It’s no trouble at all. We rarely have such important guests.”

“I would hardly say we are important.” Alisaie said. “But we appreciate the sentiment.”

With the finishing touches, the family and their guests sat down to eat—except for Ren whom was changing out of his damp clothes. Wysteria crossed her legs on the zabuton and picked up her chopsticks to dig in. The food before them wasn’t what you would call a normal Hingan dinner; There were just as many dishes that were Ala Mhigan and Gridanian 

“Look at you!” the Warrior looked up, her cheeks puffed full of rice and vegetables. “Our Warrior of Light, Champion of Eorzea! You didn’t tell us you were looking to get famous.” Ingrid said.

The young woman struggled to chew and swallow fast enough to answer. “Gah!” she gasped for breath. “Uh, it just sort of happened.” Wysteria said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Besides, it was your idea that I should become an adventurer.”

“‘Sort of happened’ she says. Pfft! Look at her, waving off battles with gods and the imperial legion like they’re nothing.” she nudges her husband with her elbow. “By Rhalgar, I thought I’d faint every time we got a new letter.” her mother reached over to pinch her cheek. “But I’m so proud! Like mother, like daughter.” 

“Ow…” Wysteria winced.

The older woman pats her own chest, looking to the Elezen. “I was an adventurer too, you know. So many memories. What’s funny is that Wysteria took the opposite journey I did. I came to the Far East, and that’s how I met Takumi. Oh, I love him so much! The first thing I told him was, ‘you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!’ And then he was like, ‘I’m sorry, m’lady. I’m actually a man. I only play women on stage.’ And then I said, ‘That’s fine! I like both!’ And then— ”

“Ingrid, you’re about to rip our daughter’s face off.” Takumi said.

“Oops!”

Wysteria felt like her skin snapped back like an elastic band. She released a low hiss and rubbed it gently to soothe the pain. “Mama, p-please don’t em—” a piece of dango fell on her plate and her eyes lit up. “Oooh!” She immediately popped the doughy ball into her mouth.

Takumi leaned in and whispered in her ear. “She has been bouncing off the walls non-stop since we received news of your visit. For the love of all that is holy, do not get her wound up on an embarrassment issue. Let your mother tire herself out so I can finally get a good night’s sleep.”

Now that her father was this close, she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. What exactly did her mother do? Actually, she didn’t want to know. The Warrior nodded and went back to eating. 

When Ren returned, Ingrid settled down a little. The family questioned the Scions about their missions and they retold them in as much detail as they could recall. They revisited the war with the XIVth Imperial Legion, the primals terrorizing the city-states, Nidhogg and the Dragonsong War, and the recent conflicts in Doma and Ala Mhigo. Wysteria tried to ignore the conversation when Zenos came up and focused on her food. By the time they finished storytelling, everyone realized it was nearly three o’clock in the morning.

Ingrid stretched her arms above her head and yawned before she spoke. “I laid futons down for you two. I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with my precious little fox kits.”

“We do not want to take advantage of your hospitality, my lady. Alisaie and I planned to stay at a local inn—”

“Stay the night!” Ingrid said a tad too intensely than she had intended. “I insist.” She added with a giggle.

Alphinaud gulped. “A-alright, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Good. Ren, you make sure Alphy here feels at home. Ali, you can bunk with Wysteria. Isn’t that right, my great warrior? ”

“Y-yes, that’s fine.” The Hyur groaned before she stifled a burp.

The Warrior had miserably stuffed herself with food, having consumed far more than her belly could handle. It was a bad habit of hers to binge. She stared at the last piece of dango on her plate, wondering whether she should push herself to eat it. Was it worth the risk of throwing up? _ My stomach will explode. Don’t be stupid, Wysteria. _ The dango stick crept closer to her mouth. _ Don’t do it. You’ll regret it. _ She could practically taste the sugary goodness. “Nom…” She took the last bite, savored the chewy texture, and forced it down. _ I hate myself. _The moment she could have some fantastic food, she had to ruin it by eating too much as always.

They followed Ingrid down the hallway as she gave the twins a brief tour, talking up a storm as she pointed to this and that. No one was listening to her, far too exhausted to keep up. Learning how to phase out her mother’s voice was an essential skill in their household.

Wysteria lingered behind, insisting that she attempt to walk. Takumi held onto her, making sure she didn’t fall. Once they were halfway, her father gently muttered. “That’s enough for now.” And swept his daughter up and off her feet like a princess.

“Papa, I’m fine.” the Warrior whined. “I hate looking so weak. It’s embarrassing. I should walk more. They said it was okay.”

“You push yourself far too much.” He said, his voice calm yet firm. He had decided and nothing she said would deter him.

“I’ve lost so much strength. I need to get better now.”

“Do not let the Eorzeans rely on you overmuch, Wysteria. They will forget how to defend themselves.”

“You sound like a xenophobe.” The Warrior grumbled.

“I do not.”

“Only the Eorzeans? What about Doma and Hingashi?”

“The Far East has great fighters in pla—“

“Xenophobe.”

Takumi huffed. “Fine. Perhaps I am being xenophobic. ‘Tis hard not to be when you described how the westerners asked you to do the impossible again and again—all on your own no less.”

“I wasn’t always by myself. You’re not being fair, papa. The Domans asked me to help liberate their country. That’s no different from Ala Mhigo.”

“The Domans asked you to remove a vengeance hungry courtesan, not a feral madman that almost killed you.”

Wysteria sighed. “Zenos yae Galvus. He was a challenge unlike anything I have faced before.”

“At least he’s gone now.”

“Yes. At least he’s gone.” Wysteria bit the inside of her cheek as an ache filled her chest. Not this again. She had been doing well to keep him out of her thoughts. The Highlander gave her head a brief shake. She refused to break that streak. Zenos? Who was Zenos?

They reached the others who had politely waited for them at the end of the corridor. Ingrid slid the door open to Wysteria’s room.

“Here we are. I kept it clean while you were gone. Sanshou has been using it as his room.” Ingrid said.

Alisaie blinked as she looked around. “That… that is quite a lot of pink.”

That was an understatement. The color saturated the room so deeply you could practically smell it. The Scions knew the Warrior of Light was a fan of the color, but not to this extent. Everything from the interior to the furniture was cutesy enough to make one puke rainbows. There were shelves upon shelves of plushies, wind up minions, and toys.

Takumi set his daughter down on her futon and tucked her in. 

“Get some rest, fox kit.”

“I’ll try, papa.”

The sound of a growl drew the eyes of the group to one of the doll cabinets. Crouching underneath it was a red fox that glared daggers at the dancer. Wysteria thought the kitsune’s ferocious look was just a trick of the light. 

“Sanshou! Baby waby! I missed you!” Wysteria squealed, reaching out to pet him. The kitsune snapped at her fingers immediately, and she gasped. He had never done that to her before. Her family’s companion had been closer to her than any other. He never attempted to bite her before.

“Sanshou!” her mother scolded, lifting the fox up into her arms as he ran to her. “What’s gotten into you? That’s your mama! Silly boy. Goodness. I’m sorry, dear.” she wags a finger at the fox. “You be nice.”

Wysteria took a sniff of her wrist. _ Do I really smell that unfamiliar? _She wondered.

Sanshou curled up in her mother’s arms and bared his teeth at the younger Highlander. Wysteria could practically hear her heart being crushed into a hundred tiny pieces. First the shrine kitsune and now Sanshou, her little baby. He followed her everywhere, slept in her bed, and was always begging for attention; now he acted as if she were a stranger. The second she woke up, she would have a long soak in the onsen. Maybe then they would stop giving her the cold shoulder.

After giving the girls goodnight kisses on their heads, and dimming the lights, the couple left.

“Your parents are… extraordinarily friendly.” Alisaie said.

The Warrior of Light rubbed her hands down her face. “I know. It’s really embarrassing.” The red mage laughed gently. “I’m sorry my room is so… childish. I hope you’re not bothered by it.” Wysteria squeaked out. 

Although she had decorated it herself and loved it, she was also ashamed of how girly it was. You could hardly call it an adult woman’s room, right?

“You need not apologize for your taste in decorum, Wysteria. Why do you apologize so much?”

“I’m sorry—I mean, it’s just a habit.”

“Do try to stop. It’s unnecessary.” Alisaie encouraged, smiling. The Elezen turned over on her side, back facing Wysteria. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Alisaie.”

Wysteria was out soon after, falling into a food coma.

During the early hours of the morning, the Warrior of Light was struck with another intense fever. One of the worst she had suffered through. She tossed and turned, vomited several times, and cried out for one man: Zenos yae Galvus.

**********************************************

The doors opened, and the Warrior of Light stepped through the threshold. A warm, brisk wind kissed her cheeks, and the smell of flowers filled her nose. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she found herself once again in the menagerie. A beautiful gown of pearly frills adorned her body. The dress felt familiar, though she could not recall as to why. Either way, it made her feel like a goddess. 

She spotted a figure sitting in the flowerbed, wearing a loose fitting, white tunic and slacks. He plucked a daisy between his boney fingers and gently relieved it of its petals. From behind, he looked similar to the fallen viceroy, but this man was far too thin. The Garlean had never looked so malnourished.

Wysteria approached him cautiously. “Hello?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.” He sounded exactly like him, too. Slowly, he rose to his feet to face her. A single step and he stumbled forward. Wysteria rushed to catch him, unable to resist aiding this fragile man. Her heroine instincts had to assist a gentleman in distress.

“Haha…” he blushed. The expression was so innocent and cute that the dancer couldn’t help but feel shy herself. 

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yes; though, I may as well be nothing more than a fawn, struggling to find my hooves. I am not used to such freedom.” stabilized once more, Wysteria released him. “Thank you.”

Beyond his gaunt features, this man was a perfect recreation of Zenos. All except for—

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” the Warrior asked, tilting her head as she peered up at him. “They’re gold. Not t-that they aren’t pretty because they are. I love them. Did I really just say that? I’m so weird. I’m sorry.”

Zenos only smiled and said. “At last, we finally meet.” he held out his hand to her. “Wysteria.”

“I’m confused.” she stared at his offered hand for a while before finding the courage to take it. They were smooth, with nary a callus or scar on his palms. “We have met before. Too many times.”

“Yes, and no.” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He beamed down at her. “Come, let us begin.” 

“Begin? Begin what?” Wysteria allowed him to lead her deeper into the flowerbed where they sat down.

Zenos laid back, golden strands fanning out around him. “Here. Climb on top of me.” He instructed.

“On t-top?” The Warrior asked, turning red. That was a bold request. 

“Do not be shy.”

“Umm… okay. I’ll just… yeah.” her movements were timid as she straddled his hips. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked down at the sight below her. She couldn’t remember seeing anyone more beautiful than him. Crimson and pink marguerites were intertwined in his sun-kissed locks. “Is um, is this this okay?”

“‘Mhm. Now,” he hummed, lacing his fingers between hers. 

Gods, she was going to die from this. Wysteria felt her head might burst from the blood rushing to it. Her loins throbbed with heat. Yikes! That was even worse. It was hard not to feel aroused. Zenos looked infatuated with her and the expression was so alluring.

“There is little of me to offer, but it is yours, my friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“’Willing flesh to blend the souls. Cast out half to become whole.’” He answered her with a poem line. Had she heard it before?

“That sounds familiar, but I still don’t understand. What do you want me to do, Zenos?”

**“**I shall cease to be just as she did. As your darkness became one with him, I will become one with you.” Zenos turned his head, gazing at the eloquent doors that led back inside the palace. “He will not miss me. Rarely does he even hear me. ‘Tis my hope that he will listen to you. Yes, I know you will serve him better than I.”

Wysteria was growing ever more confused. “Who?”

“Zenos.”

“Zenos? But you’re Zenos, aren’t you? Then again…” she reexamined him, how he appeared to be a husk of the viceroy, a skeleton with skin that clung to him like a soaked towel on a rack. “You seem different.”

“I am merely half of the man, perhaps even less so, but not for much longer. I am passing the torch to you.” He brought her hands to his throat, and the woman’s chest ached as if an icy dagger was marking her flesh.

“No! P-please don’t do this again.” Wysteria said, trying to pull her hands back, but she couldn’t. Sparks of light came to life around them, fluttering up from the man beneath her. She had grown used to this in her encounters with Zenos, but there was one difference here: he was not drawing the darkness from her. 

Wysteria’s body refused to stop, her digits biting into the flesh of his neck. “Don’t make me kill you, Zenos.” she was desperate now, tears staining her cheeks as she tried to fight back against the threads controlling her. If she lost focus for even a second, she would snap his neck. “I said I never would!”

Zenos was calm and pleasant. “I know. ‘Tis cruel that we are born into this violent world alone and leave it the same way. However,” he stroked her cheek, wiping away a tear trail. “If we do this, we can _ always _be together. Zenos will never leave you.”

“Y-you— he should! I want Zenos to leave me alone! I’m tired of being haunted by his memory!” Wysteria cried out.

“We both know that is a lie, my friend. Listen to me, we waited so long for you, endured a lifetime of tormenting solitude. You understand that loneliness, know how it can warp a person into something unrecognizable. From the beginning, I have never had the chance to grow, to take root in my own soul. Zenos is… incomplete, and he has ever sought to fill that void. Do not deny him this opportunity.” 

“Who are you really?” the Warrior demanded.

He smiled. “I am the light. A spark hidden deep within the abyss with no chance to bloom… until he met you.”

The Hyur shook her head. “You’re scaring me. I don’t like this.”

“There is no shame in admitting reservation. What matters is that you push forward despite it all. I admire that about you. You fight against it, not always well, but you try. Many run and cower, allowing their terror to rule over them. To do so in his presence is a death sentence. They become little more than insects to the hunter then. He kills merely because he finds their existence revolting.”

“The hunter… a ravenous lion that cannot be satisfied.” Wysteria muttered.

Zenos’s Light nodded. “He does not want to be fed and pampered. Zenos is a beast bred and trained for war. He wants to hunt, to revel in violence, and bloodshed—in challenge.‘Tis the very essence of his soul, the only thing that makes him feel complete.”

“Z, please.” her knuckles popped painfully from resisting her muscles. “This will hurt me more than any scar you’ve left on my body.”

“You have no choice nor do I.” his face was solemn, displaying the remorse he felt. Unlike Zenos, this light experienced empathy_ . _“Your soul calls for me and I want to give myself to you, fully and unconditionally. If only it did not have to involve distressing you so. Forgive me. I wish for only one thing before I go.” He suddenly pulled her down with strength his body did not look capable of. 

“Mmph!” Wysteria’s squealed, the sound muffled against his lips. 

Zenos’s Light cupped her face, savoring every second of their kiss. He was soft, loving, caring… nothing at all like the Garlean she knew. 

“You are beautiful, graceful, spirited, and gentle. He may never admit it and feign disgust at your nature. I will not. You are the embodiment of perfection. He wants you. I want you. Every fiber of our being screams for you. Not that he could ever understand. He’s less than the ‘beasts’ he claims to hunt.” his words rumbled from his chest before capturing her mouth again. 

When was the last time she received compliments like this? Not since Haurchefant had she been flattered to this extent. Wysteria was afraid of the consequences of enjoying this. Last time, Zenos had rejected her, ripping her back by the hair. However, his lips were too good to resist, and she sank into him. Her body echoed his sentiments, crying out for more of his touch.

“That fool.” he whispered when they parted. Wysteria could do nothing but stare, stilled by the shock of his kiss. Her heart was pounding so fast she could barely feel it. “I could care for you so much better. ‘Twas I that saw your potential, I that stayed his hand when he could gain no more from battle, I who urged him to offer you a place by his side. The few times he’s heard me, almost all involve you. So, why… why does it have to be him that remains? That part of me is an abomination. There is no redemption for that thing you pity.” he growled. “‘Tis true that the hunter is stronger. He can protect you whereas I cannot, but he will also bring you pain. So much pain. I can do nothing, but submit to your will and his. There is so much more I want answered: Why was I locked away? No matter how loud I screamed or how hard I clawed at his mind, he was numb to everything, so numb… What did they do to us? What were his orders?” 

“Someone hurt you? Who was it?” Wysteria was eager to punish the fiend. “I’ll kill them.”

He chuckled and slid his fingers through her ebon hair, “Do not mind me. I was merely pondering. The answers I seek shall forever remain a mystery to me.” the Light kissed her forehead. “I have delayed us long enough, my dear. I’m glad we met. Short as it was, this moment I’ve shared with you is precious to me.” Zenos pulled her in close again and Wysteria pursed her lips for another kiss. Instead, his breath tickled her ear as he uttered only two words. “Kill me.”

Wysteria choked out a pained cry as her hands clenched down. They dug in deep, squeezing the ligaments and bones in his neck together. Bruises were already starting to form, dark marks that grew around her petite fingers. Zenos’s Light did not steel himself, rather, he arched up into her crushing grip. At first, it appeared his throat was strong enough to resist her strength and Wysteria had hope that she wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. It lasted for only an instant. Soon, more muscle gave way and she could feel his windpipe struggling against her hold. Zenos’s Light tried to bite back the tears, to put on a brave face for his friend, but it became too much. Tears flowed from the corners of his golden eyes, their spark growing ever dimmer. They soon turned bloodshot, the tiny veins bulging from the sclera like roots from the earth. He was in agony, and yet he smiled up at the woman as if to comfort her. He did not fight her; he did not flee; he accepted his fate. 

His windpipe finally gave way, bone crunching beneath her grip as her nails tore into his skin. Her hands, and the collar of his shirt, were stained with a crystalline sheen. His blood ran in streams of melted amber, trickling from the corner of his swollen lips. After an agonizing minute that felt like an eternity, Zenos’s Light went still. Finally, Wysteria could pull her hands away, and she wept over his broken corpse. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she wailed, a hysterical mess. “I didn’t want to do it! Why didn’t you fight me? Why did I have to kill you!?” she cradled his head to her bosom as she screamed. “Zenos! Zenooooooos!”

Like the Totentanz before him, his remains transformed into a dense mist that flowed into the Warrior, bright and golden. Rather than pain, she felt a soothing warmth, one that she knew all too well—it was that same sensation that had comforted her many times before throughout her illness. As he dissipated, Wysteria wrapped her arms around herself and curled up on the ground, sobbing.

_ Come to me. _His voice echoed through the menagerie, a pleasant hollowness that rang in her ears. His tone alone was enough to reveal that this was the Zenos she knew: the cruel and evil man of her reality. 

A bang caused the dancer to bolt up, and she saw the doors to the palace were open. Wysteria could see nothing beyond but a creeping darkness, twisted tendrils that beckoned her inside. Although the sun continued to shine, the world appeared as if someone had sucked the light out of it.

The Warrior glowed, a veil of serene moonlight that was nearly blinding. It bleached the world around her, crystalizing all she touched into vibrant diamonds. Her head throbbed, a pulse like that of the Echo ringing in her ears. The Warrior did not know if she had the strength, grieving as she was, but she somehow climbed to her feet. She moved without thinking, having no fear as she stepped into the darkness awaiting her in the palace. Wherever Zenos was, she had to find him and the desperation to do so continued to build. She couldn’t refuse his call. The Warrior was blind, moving through corridors she could scarcely recall as she sought the prince out. She didn’t know where she was going. Her soul was guiding the way.

_ So close now. So close. _His voice echoed.

Another set of doors blocked her path, carved with intricate Ala Mhigan masonry and defiled by the Garlean symbol. Now she knew where she was. It wasn’t very long ago that she had stood before this same door, when the Resistance stormed the palace. With a gentle push, they crept open. The click of her heels reverberated throughout the chamber as she approached the center. Her brown eyes targeted the man who sat upon his stolen throne. Zenos sat as he always did in his chair: cheek resting against his fist and reclined with his legs crossed—not a care in the world. The shadows had made Zenos their home, swirling and flaming around him as a violent inferno. 

“There you are.” he said as a wicked, feline grin curled his lips. He stood and sauntered towards her. “My enemy… my friend… how long we have waited for this moment.” the darkness trailed behind him, desperate claws seeking to rend flesh. “This is our joining. Our rebirth.”

The glow around Wysteria shone brighter the closer he came. Her foot came off the ground, intending to move back, only to step forward instead. Her body was fighting her will again, or her will was fighting her body. Zenos discarded his gauntlets, exposing his calloused palms as he extended his hand. The Warrior of Light mirrored his movements, casting aside her gloves and reaching for him.

“We have fractured our very souls for this purpose. There is no going back. Give in to your instincts. Accept me and become whole.” he said as his eyes glazed over with the dark power of the Resonant. “Become whole with me.”

“I want to be whole with you.” she said without thinking, as if the words spoke directly from her heart. The blessing of light glimmered from her chest. “I want you to feel alive. I want you to experience life with me. I want you to open your eyes and truly see. Zenos…” their fingertips were centimeters from touching. “I acce—”

_ You will… _ A divine, but weak voice echoed through the chambers. _ Not take my child from me, son of shadow. _

A crack suddenly raced across the floor, creating a chasm that ripped through the earth and separated the pair. Wysteria nearly fell into the abyss below, but an invisible rope wrapped around her waist and hauled her back.

Wysteria swiped for the prince’s hand as a reflex, but he was too far. The ceiling vanished, replaced with the vastness of the aetherial sea. A small crystal lingered in the distance, not so different from the one Wysteria had seen when she first encountered the goddess. 

Zenos looked up at the sky. “Ah. The so-called ‘goddess’ appears at last.” the darkness grew thicker, leaving only an intimidating silhouette where the man stood. “You would dare take that which is rightfully mine, willingly given?” his voice distorts, as if a demon were now speaking through him.

_ You hath received naught of her final boon yet. With what remains of mine strength, I will protect her. _

“But your ability to do so is finite. You only delay the inevitable.” the darkness swirled in a torrent, lifting debris into the air and scattering it into the void. “My friend… my enemy… my new light...” he growled. “She belongs to me. She is mine. _ All mine! _”

As the Warrior drifted further into the lifestream, the shadows surrounding the Garlean erupted into a storm of smoke. Bat-like wings emerged from the cloud and, with a single flap, came soaring towards the dancer like a bullet. His form disappeared, becoming a blur. Wysteria felt her speed pick up slightly, but it appeared Hydaelyn was at her limit.

_ Beloved daughter… He is right. _ Hydaelen said. _ Though I hath recovered little since our last meeting, my power wanes once more. This is all I can do. I cannot intervene again. You must… you must resist him. I know you desire this union with him again, for you hath sown the seed by your own hand; but I beseech you, do not give yourself to him. _

“We will finish our joining.” Zenos proclaimed. “And when we are truly and finally complete, she and I will feast upon you and your kind. None will stand against us. All shall be made to kneel.” 

_Do not touch him. He will devour you, my child. _

The fog surrounding the fallen prince was swept away by another flap of his wings, revealing the monster underneath. A roar rumbled from his throat and the Warrior came face to face with emerald reptilian eyes. He was an abomination, a void sent, a primal, something _ horrifying _ … and equally _ enticing _. Her stomach flipped, heart lurching into her throat as his clawed fingertips nearly grazed her. The initial shock of his transformation left Wysteria dumbfounded, and she barely recognized the draconic features he had taken on: the scales, the horns, the tail. Then, as the outline of his wings flashed with wind aether, it clicked. Shinryu. He had become a hybrid of the dragon primal, a form molded by his desires— the perfect hunter.

Against her will, or perhaps because it was her _ true _ will, the Warrior of Light held her hand out to Zenos. “Whole… must become whole—no!” She grabbed her arm and jerked it back.

The goddess continued. _To join fully with him will be your end. Though you cannot undo the chaos you have wrought, you may still yet prevent more harm to your soul._ _Use the blessing I hath given thee and bind thy foe within the depths of your heart. There, he cannot escape. There, he cannot influence you. Allow your flesh to serve as his prison. Let none be harmed by this abomination again._ _Your mind may forget this dream as the aether within you attempts to burn out the intruder’s, but know that your heart will not._

Zenos was within reach and Wysteria’s hand lurched out towards him again.

_ Hear… _

“But I want…” the Warrior of Light sighed. “I want to be with… I don’t know what I want.”

_ Feel… _

Wysteria did as the goddess said and found the determination to resist. “I can’t. I won’t do it.”

His emerald eyes flared. “Then you leave me no choice.” Zenos lunged, his claws swiping for the dancer. “I will take what is mine by force.” 

_ Think… _

Just as the prince was about to grab her, the crystals of light manifested before them. They shone with the holy magic of the Mother Crystal. Zenos hissed, shielding himself with his leathery wings.

“Again? Your blessing—graahh hahaha!'' Zenos cackled as the Echo burned him. The light grew brighter and brighter until its power blinded Wysteria. The last thing she heard was Zenos’s fading voice. “Run, beast. Run! But know this: _ I will catch you. _”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my mutual Charon-lumi on tumblr for the Shrinyu-Zenos hybrid idea.


	10. Chapter 10

A soothing warmth surrounded the Warrior of Light. Ribbons of steam kissed her cheeks before being swept away by the cool sea breeze. The wispy streams vanished into the dusk sky. The heat sank into her aching bones and muscles, coaxing her to surrender the tension held within her body. She could hear the waves crashing against the rocks nearby, luring her in with its transcendent lullaby. It was a song all islanders knew, and one she had missed. Sure, she’d seen the ocean plenty of times since adventuring, but these were her waters, her home.

Wysteria loved the onsen. It was far more than a bath; it was a place of healing, a blessing from the kami. There wasn’t a location on Shirogane more relaxing than their mountainside hot spring. It was the first time since her awakening that her mind was just blank, taking a conscious effort to think. It was peaceful, serene… unsettling. Apathy was not a trait of hers.

After nearly asphyxiating on her own vomit, Wysteria’s mother cleaned her up and brought the sickly Warrior to the family onsen. The dancer barely remembered what happened, her mind sinking further into a haze of magma. Voices had cried out around her, bewildered and panicked as she choked. 

_“That’s not possible. Why would her aether spike only to drop at such an alarming rate?”_

_“That’s good, right? It’s going down.“_

_“No. It’s too fast. She’ll—Alisaie! Levin! Now!”_

_“Seven hells… what is this? Stay back. Give me room or she will die!”_

Again. This illness would take her again. There was no promise of being resuscitated a second time. Rarely did the Gods grant a miracle, and never a second. Mayhap this was their will from the start, and it was man that had intervened. Now, she was being pulled back to the other side. The Twelve, the kami, they wouldn’t be denied.

The rest of what she heard was a string of broken words connected with indiscernible ones: stroke, seizure, hypothermia, stagnation, shock, heart attack, respiratory failure, coma, and death—were just a few of the terms she picked up.

Wysteria looked up and stared blankly into the gray sky, a mirror of her current condition. 

_Am I going to die?_

There was no fear nor anxiety that sparked within her at the possibility. Such a thought could easily send her into a panic attack, but instead, Wysteria felt— 

“Numb.” she muttered. “I’m so numb.”

The Hyurian woman took the wash cloth perched atop her head and wiped the sweat off her brow. Nothing. Wysteria felt absolutely nothing. Her heart was cold and hard, struggling to beat and feel, and yet it remained frozen. It was an almost satisfying sensation, to be void of everything that made the fidgety Warrior who she was, but it offered no genuine comfort— just as a drugged sleep rarely provided a fulfilling one. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Yes, she was sick, but this amount of lethargy was troubling. She didn’t want to do anything. There was not a flicker of energy within her. Yes, she suffered through unbeckoned spells of despair from time to time; she had ever since she was a teenager, however, this was different. All Wysteria wanted was to curl up on her futon and sleep—preferably forever.

“Wysteria?” her mother called. She lingered at the edge of the pool, her leggings rolled up above her ankles. “Did you hear me?” The adventurer cocked her head towards the sound. Her awareness of her surroundings was hardly stable. “Where are you numb?” Ingrid asked.

It took the Warrior a while to answer. “Everywhere.” she whispered. Her mother’s brows knitted together. It was not a response meant to be ominous, but the croak and weakness of her gentle voice portrayed it as such. “It’s like… the world is rushing past me, and I can’t do anything.” she held up her hand and waved it in front of her face. Her fingertips were a blur, delayed in their movement as they distorted the surrounding air. “I’m standing still. I-I can’t keep up. I’m fading…” 

Sealed away behind a glass window, life continued. Wysteria’s throat tightened as a sob attempted to emerge from her chest. It failed. She didn’t even have the strength to cry properly. The tears came all the same, absent from her typical, ugly wailing.

“Don’t cry, fox kit.” her mother cooed. “The healer should arrive here by tomorrow. Do you remember Tanaka-sensei?”

“Tana...ka?” The name was familiar to her, but she could find no face to match. “I can’t.”

“She’s a specialist of Far Eastern traditional medicine and a priestess. She’s unable to make a house call today, but there’s no one better than her on this side of Hingashi.”

“Oh.” Wysteria had to force out the word before she fell into a staring fit. 

Her heart skipped a beat. The pool suddenly erupted with bubbles like a witch’s cauldron. The heat intensified, making it difficult to breathe. She looked down to find that the spring had turned red, oozing like blood from the trickling brook that fed the spring. Fear was absent, though she was uncomfortable. There was a figure reflected upon the surface as if someone were trapped and trying to break through. A faint murmur buzzed in her ear.

_We must… _

From the depths, a hand pierced through the surface, glistening with ichor and shadow. It swiped blindly for her. Wysteria pressed her back against the rocky wall, calmly observing the monstrosity. She should have been screaming, bellowing her lungs out until they shrank up within her chest. The closest thing the Warrior could feel was curiosity.

“We must... what? I-I don’t understand.” She said.

_… return… our sanctum… sleep… sleep… sleep… sleep… you must…_

After several failures, the steel clad claw, curled in on itself and sank back into the depths. 

“Sanctum. Sleep? Sleep...” The Warrior closed her eyes and leaned forward, nearly plunging right into the bloodied pool. The voice was too tempting to disobey. She wanted to find them, meet them.

“Wysteria?”

She snapped out of her daze. Clarity returned to the onsen, reflecting the Hyur’s flushed, freckled cheeks to her dark eyes. She looked up at her mother, confused.

“The water… d-didn’t you see? It turned—and there was a...”

“You hallucinated something about the water?”

Hallucination. Of course. That single word brought her back to her senses. It was a term she’d become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks—sick of really. “Right...” the dancer muttered. “Sorry, mama. My head is so fuzzy. What were you saying?”

Ingrid did not answer right away, tempted to press her child further on the matter. She changed her mind. The girl had enough stress. Her mother thought it best not to linger on it. 

“That your friends are highly intelligent and we are thankful for all the help they’ve provided, but your papa and I want a second opinion. Their treatment isn’t working. If only we had gotten you to a proper doctor sooner.”

A dizzy spell came over Wysteria, causing the woman’s head to pound. Several images flashed before her: Resonant eyes, chains being dragged across the floor, crystal keys entering a lock, the clash of blades, light and dark, a hand clutching her beating heart, and finally, fingers entwining. None of it made sense to her. However, she knew the eyes were his.

_My friend... my enemy… _

“ Ze… Ze… no—” Wysteria groaned, losing her focus. 

Her mother misheard her. “No, we are not being xenophobic! I’m worried! Western medicine is not the answer. It took us an hour to wake you up, Wysteria. You kept screaming that horrible man’s name repeatedly. You were so distressed. Your friends didn’t know what to do.” her mother stepped into the water as fear settled upon her face. “Is there something you’re not telling me? What did he do to you, Wysteria? Did he… you can tell me anything, you know that.” she placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m here for you.”

A fine crack was forming upon the barrier that concealed her thoughts on Zenos yae Galvus. Ingrid was so close. Not that Wysteria was too surprised. When she calmed down and focused, her mother did well reading people. Not to mention her mother’s intuition probably gave her a boost in snooping. 

Wysteria nervously fiddled with the bow on her bathing suit. This was information she had not confessed to a single soul. Everyone was already so worried about her. She didn’t want to make it worse by mentioning her conflicting feelings for Zenos; however, Wysteria was at her emotional limit. Concealing the truth was devouring her, and now Ingrid was there and ready to listen. There couldn’t be a better opportunity. It was time to let go. 

Wysteria opened her mouth and croaked before she could force out the words. “Ever since I woke up from my coma, I see and hear Zenos yae Galvus. I-I think I just heard him speak to me. I couldn’t make it out. Something about going to sleep.” she shook her head. “It’s silly, but I’m afraid he might be real. I can’t get him out of my head. He’s always there, lingering in my thoughts, lurking… tempting me.”

“Oh, fox kit.” Ingrid stroked her hair. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you. He committed seppuku, yes? Is that what’s troubling you?”

Seppuku. Upon hearing that, Wysteria’s lower lip quivered. Her numbness faded all at once as if the truth of her feelings could not bear it’s containment any longer. The dam broke.

“Y-yes.” the boulders upon her shoulders grew heavier. Her shame was clear for her mother to see: She emphasized with Zenosand mourned him, mourned a monster who deserved death a thousand times over. 

“Witnessing that couldn’t have been easy.” 

The sob she’d nurtured within her chest broke free. “It was a-awful!” her voice cracked and her nose ran. Her wet hands did little to wipe the slime away. “There was so much blood. He looked straight at me and smiled. H-he smiled at me. Smiled, mama. Kami help me, I pity him. I felt sorry for him. I w-wanted to help him.”

“Fox kit...”

“He doesn’t deserve pity. Why do I pity him? It’s wrong. He was evil, so evil and selfish! I hate myself so much. Why am I like this?”

Ingrid cupped her daughter’s face. “Because you love!” she was nearly about to break down herself, seeing her daughter in so much torment. “You love so much and so passionately. That you can feel sadness even for a monster like Zenos shows the strength of your heart. You saw something in him.”

“No. I’m just romanticizing the idiot. I romanticize evil people like a psycho, wishing I had the strength to save them from their wicked ways! I’m weak and stupid and—.” the Warrior whimpered. “I should despise him like everyone else. I’m deranged.”

“Nonsense.” her mother shook her head. “Even as a child, you always wanted to be friends with the meanest kids. I never understood why until I realized you wanted to share your love with those you thought needed it the most.

“I just wanted friends back then.” Wysteria turned away from Ingrid. “I wasn’t smart enough to think in depth like that. I’m still not.”

“You are. I remember asking you why you kept trying to play with Kagura even after she pushed you down and called you names. Do you know what you said?” Wysteria shook her head. “You said, ‘because she seems sad and I want to see her smile. She’s so pretty I think she might be a princess. If I see her smile, then I’ll know.”

Wysteria scoffed. “Did I really say that?”

“Before I knew it, that girl started being nice to you. You were best friends until she had to move away. You see? You saw something I couldn’t. I saw a bratty kid, but you saw someone who was troubled, a girl that needed a friend. You’ve always been sensitive to the emotions of others. That is your gift. You’re an empath, Wysteria.”

“This is different! Kagura wasn’t a megalomaniac. Zenos did so many horrible things.”

“He did.” Ingrid agreed. “Do you not pity the people he hurt more?”

“Is that a genuine question?!” Wysteria asked, exasperated. “Of course I do! Everything I did, I did for them! No matter what my feelings are… I would do it again if it meant saving them. I just… t-there was enough death… Zenos should have lived. I would have made him repay Ala Mhigo and Doma tenfold, personally. I—“ Wysteria remembered what the Garlean had said to her in a dream. He was right. “I wanted to have my cake and eat it too.” 

The Warrior of Light rubbed her face and groaned. “He was like a child during our final battle, so excited. His eyes were bright, he was practically glowing because he felt joy when we fought. He was glad I defeated him, was hoping for it. It wasn’t until the end that he showed how pitiful and empty he was. Desperate.” Wysteria shook her head. “I shouldn’t think so hard about it. He was insane. N-nothing more.”

“What’s important is that you condoned him for his actions and did what you thought was right. You stopped him from hurting more people.”

“And I’m glad. I want to keep people safe. But…” the Warrior of Light hung her head. “I feel like I lost. I wanted to save Zenos too, mama. I really did.”

“When someone’s set in their ways and dig their heels into the dirt—“

“I know! I know that, but I can’t change how I feel! I can’t take that mindset of ‘you win some. You lose some’.” a surge of anger gripped her, and she slapped the water. “It’s like I’m admitting defeat. I want to be a hero! I want to save everyo—“ Wysteria couldn’t finish, interrupted by a coughing fit.

“You are a hero, sweetie, but even heroes have their limits. You cannot change people that refuse to open. It’s not your fault.” Ingrid said, brushing Wysteria’s ebony bangs from her face. “Let’s put the topic to rest for now. You’ve soaked long enough. The twins are probably wrapping up their investigation.”

Ingrid helped her daughter out of the pool and wrapped a soft towel around her. The pastel pink of her bathing suit looked so bright against her sickly, pale skin, practically glowing in comparison. The Hyur had always been pale, but this was ridiculous. The aether sickness was ravaging her body.

They returned to the cottage. Everyone was outside searching for what might have triggered Wysteria’s reaction. Alphinaud and Alisaie suspected there was an unknown ley line beneath the property, but they found no trace of an aetherical source. They were stumped.

From the distance, the Warrior of Light could tell that they were agitated. Their frustration magically disappeared when she arrived. They greeted her with kindness too sugary even for Wysteria’s tooth. Warm smiles and hugs galore. They were trying too hard. It was fake. They simply didn’t want to cause the Warrior more distress than she was already experiencing. Wysteria wasn’t that naive. She could practically see the tension between the twins and her parents.

Once she was tucked back into her futon and out of the sight, the real show ended. The curtain came down and the paper walls were happy to reveal their secrets.

“I don’t understand.” Alphinaud began. “She was making so much progress. Granted, we knew her condition could worsen before it improved, but to this degree?” The boy said with a shake of his head.

“One step forward, two steps back.” Alisaie mused. “I’ve contacted Y’shtola, and she said to treat the symptoms as best as we can for now.”

“Is Wysteria going to die?” Ren asked, his voice far more timid than anything the twins had heard.

The Elezen shared a pained expression. “At this moment in time…” Alphinaud didn’t finish.

“And whose fault is that?” Takumi hissed. The venom that dripped from his lips was not a tone he took often. “Yours. Why was no one with her during the final push into the castle?” The walls vibrated with his anger.

“Takumi, please. Don’t start this.” Ingrid begged.

“P-papa stop…” Wysteria tried to cry out, but she could barely speak above a whisper. No one could hear her from the other room.

“Our child is dying! I want answers. I want to know why these cowards refused to protect her when they continually throw her at every danger that manifests in Eorzea. Why did you send my daughter—alone— to fight that madman—and every other damn primal for that matter?”

“Wysteria is tough. She can handle whatever—“ Her brother started before their father interrupted him.

“Don’t give me that, Ren. I know you look up to her, but even you must have picked up from her letters that they whip her like a workhorse.”

“We have never treated Wysteria like an animal!” Alisaie snapped. 

“Sister, please. Sir, Wysteria did not always face our enemies alone.” Alphinaud defended. “There were other adventurers with the Echo that assisted her, at least when they could. Many of the primals we dealt with had to be taken care of immediately and we did not have the time to wait and gather a group.”

“That doesn’t explain why she faced Zenos by herself. The entirety of the Eorzean Alliance and Scions were at her back. Are you telling me not one person wanted to support her?”

“She wanted to fight him alone.” Alisaie said. “I too wish we could have stood by her side. Unfortunately, it was the best strategy. Zenos had no qualms slaughtering the “unworthy” warriors that stood in his way. Wysteria wanted to keep others safe from his wrath.”

“We had no idea that the viceroy had Shinryu in his possession, nor did we know he would pass beyond the heavens to an aetherial plane.” Alphinaud added.

“Excuses…” Takumi grumbled. “Pitiful excuses! I see how you look at her. You treat her like she’s a kami incarnation. You’ve placed her so high upon a pedestal that you can’t even see her humanity. Wysteria isn’t your sword to flail around. She’s just a girl.”

“With all due respect, sir: Wysteria has earned the esteem given to her. We do not think of her as a sword, but a hero; and more often than not, she is the only one we can count on.”

“And now that you’ve drained her dry, will you replace her with another naïve hero until you too break them?”

“Takumi, that’s enough! They’re young and don’t des—.” Ingrid started.

“Exactly! Why are children leading an important organization and dealing with politics?”

“Children?” Alisaie scoffed.

“Alisaie…” Her brother warned.

“Out!” the floorboards rattled as her mother stomped. “Go outside. Take a walk and cool down.”

“Ingrid—“ Takumi protested.

“No. Get out.”

Wysteria flinched when the door slammed.

“I apologize. Takumi is just scared.”

“‘It’s fine. He has every right to be cross with us.” Alphinaud said. “We could have done more. She had improved so much that I didn’t think to look for signs of a setback… This shouldn’t be happening to her.” he sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if we take our leave for now, my lady. Wysteria is stable and you can summon us via linkshell should that change.”

“We’ll return first thing in the morning.” Alisaie said.

“You’re more than welcome to stay, but I understand if you feel uncomfortable after my husband’s outburst. There is an inn just down the road, not even a five-minute walk away...” and with that, silence fell upon the house.

Wysteria stared up at the ceiling. This was her fault. Everyone was fighting because of her. 

_I hate this. I don’t want to divide anyone. _She covered her face_. Ren was so quiet. Papa rarely gets so angry, and mama has never thrown papa out of the house before._

Something moist touched her arm, and she lowered her hands to look around. A ball of scruffy red fur sat at her side, staring her down and flicking his bushy tail. The fox sniffed her hair and snorted, crawling up on her pillow to investigate.

“Sanshou…” hesitantly, she reached for him. “Do you still hate me?” She asked, voice squeaking as she fought the sob struggling to emerge from her sore throat.

The fox didn’t respond, but he playfully chewed on her fingers, letting out a soft whining sound reminiscent of laughter. That sound; she loved that sound. It was a kitsune’s way of saying “I love you.”. Wysteria lost her battle.

“Oh, Sanshou, I’m so scared. Why is this happening to me?” She pulled the fox to her chest and buried her face in his fluff, weeping. He was fine, at first, but that changed after he sniffed her again. The fox let out a low growl.

“Can you tell I’m sick? Is that what’s bothering you and the others? I didn’t think you guys were that sensitive to aether. I’m sorry.”

Sanshou’s ears perked up, distracted by a shine flickering in her adventurer bag. He pranced over to it and rummaged through its contents, stuffing his entire body inside. His tail waved back and forth mischievously.

Wysteria giggled, wiping away her tears as she watched the curious creature. “Messing with my things already? What are you doing, silly? There’s nothing in there you would want.”

Sanshou was quick to prove that statement false. The fox’s head reappeared, holding a velvet-trimmed pouch between his jaws. A rainbow of colors glowed from within, the light so strong that it penetrated through the fabric.

Wysteria gasped. “H-hey! Be careful. That’s my crystal pack. You can’t play with those.” she wagged a finger at him. “If you want something shiny, you can use my crafting crystals. I have plenty of those and barely use them.”

The fox took one step towards the door with his tail held high. “Give.” She opened and closed her hand.

The fox blinked at her and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t act like you don’t understand me. You always did, and now I have the Echo too. I bet you know exactly what I’m saying.” the Warrior took a babyish tone. “Please? Pretty witty baby waby boy.~.”

If there was one thing Sanshou couldn’t resist, it was being talked to like a spoiled brat. The red fox pranced back to her side, and the Warrior retrieved her treasure.

“Thank you. That was a gentlemanly response, Sanshou. Look.” she removed a ruby crystal from the bag. “These are my crystals of light. Hydaelyn gave them to me—not personally, but she made sure I found them. Pretty neat, huh?” 

She held the gem up to the light and admired the tiny inferno that raged within. Sanshou tried to chew on it and Wysteria booped his nose with her finger.

“This was the first one I found. That day seems so long ago. I remember how scared I was to fight Ifrit, how the fire raged around us so fiercely. I’m still not sure how I did it.

Most of the Scions doubted me. They would never admit it now, but I could tell by the way they looked at me. I wasn’t exactly the best adventurer around. Even though I knew how to fight, I was nothing but a sprout in the guild. It’s one thing to practice against dummies and another to engage in real combat. I lost count of the times I got knocked out. I probably wouldn’t have stayed if not for Minfilla. 

Then I confronted him, the Lord of the Inferno. My first fight against a primal and I won. I brushed it off as a fluke, but then I defeated another primal and a third. I started to believe what Minfilla said: that I had a gift, that I was special. She always believed in me.” Wysteria turned the crystal in her hand. “I miss her a lot. She was like a big sister to everyone. You would have liked her. Oh, and she was a hi—“ she suddenly interrupted herself with a yawn. “Highlander too. Pure blood, of course. Not a mongrel like me.” Wysteria tucked Sanshou between her body and arm. “Let’s take a nap. I haven’t had a bed buddy in a while. I’m sure I’ll…” 

Wysteria ran her fingers through his fur and fell silent, too exhausted to finish her sentence. As she closed her eyes, the desire to sleep pulled her under, and she was out within seconds. The fire crystal remained on her chest.

****************************

Falling. Wysteria was falling into the blackest pit of the abyss. Her own demons, someone else’s, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she was the only source of light. Not that it did her much good. The aura that surrounded her barely penetrated the shadows. 

_Welcome back. _Despite the distorted roll that had taken his voice, she knew it was the hunter.

A hand appeared from below, a monstrous thing with gnarled knuckles and sharp claws. Chains hung from his wrists, the links shining with iridescent light. It plucked her from the darkness and wrapped its fingers around her—a mouse caught in a trap with nowhere to run. She was frightened, but the Warrior did not fight. There was no desire to. It was her choice to come here. 

_You do not look so well. Nor do I, if I am being honest. Look at this hideous form your subconscious has placed upon me. Your instincts cannot help but ş̷̠̗̮̒̎̌̓̐̎̒͘͝ę̴͉̯́e̴̩̻̰̓̓͝ ̷̣̜̖̘͆̃̍̇͋̊̀͊m̶̻̖͚͍̠͑̀ȩ̴̩̤̟̝̞̟̮̮̓ ̷̨̛̪̭̠͓̣̗̱͎͛̐̂̀̆̉̅͜͝͠a̶̛̠̝̼̙̭͔͖͇̼̓̓̓̎̓s̷̫̠̯͆ ̸̨̭̠͖̗̳̲̮̅t̸̲̻̮̓̈́̎͠h̵͓͇̟̝̺͉̜͈̮̓̅̒͘͜͠e̶̦̘̥͇̬̞̮͆̾̊̄͌ͅ ̴̧̼̟̘̼̝̹͎̊̋͗̓͝p̴̡̢̪̖̙̼̮̖̦̂̎͆̐ṟ̷͒̽͛͌͗̆̕e̷̜̒͂̇̿d̶̡̛̛̯̖͕͓̺̤̯̟́͐͛͗̿ǎ̵̛̟̙͙̾̿ẗ̵̹̭̪̻̖̲͎̝̤́͌̅͂͊͘o̴͇̳͎̳͇͋r̴̛̞̟̼̲̲͉͌̐́ ̴̟̀̓̍͊͊̃͠I̵͖͇̖͆͂͒́̽͌͝ͅ ̷̨̨̧̘͕̤̻̰̘͒̍͒̚͝͝͝͠a̸̮̍̾̋͂̓̕͠m̵̩̗̱͚̿͋̄͗̎.̷̙̝̳̲̗͊̇͗͌̽̊̾͑͘_

His eyes opened, bright and scarlet. The lion’s maw salivated, filled with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. His beautiful fur was intermingled with scales of green and gold, an abomination of a giant cat and a draconic primal.

_We’ve fallen from grace yet again, pushed from our shining tower by your own “mother”. A single moment of hesitation. That was all it took to undo our work. We have toiled so long to create this bond only for you to a̴̢͚͙̪̫̾̄̑̉̒͐̅͂͘b̶͉͔͓̣͕̎͛͂̿̓̎͑̚͘͝â̵̧̢̼̼̹͙̄͛͜n̸̠̟̠̜̊̈́̏͆̇̐͐ḑ̵̘̥͖̈́̇͒͝ọ̴̟̹̣̯͇̈̒̂̒̔ň̴̞̉̔̍͛̀͛̋͗͠ ̷̭̜̦̱̜͈͌̾̎͊͗̈́͘͠͝͠ ̴̧̛̗̬̤̲̹m̵̛̰͖̹͕̗̈́͂̌͛e. Do you desire this union or not?_

He released her then, leaving her to fall further into the depths of her psyche. Wysteria did not let go. She scrambled to cling to the claw: twisting hers arms and legs around the digits tightly. He flicked his wrist as if to swat her away like a gnat, but the woman persevered. There was his answer.

The monster sneered. _You are an obnoxious beast! Do you know that? I should focus mine efforts on the chains that bind us, break them, ă̷̜̬̥̗͈̘̓͌̏͠n̸͈̬͕͇̺̤̓͊̓̇͛͂̉͑̌͜d̵͎͂̽ ̷̫͉̺̟̟̯̯̞̽̐͗͜ĺ̸͔͎̺͉̯̙̫ͅę̵̝̱̝̮̪͛͊͜ȧ̷̡̨̛͈̫͙̹̱̪̎̍͒͌̇̄̍v̷̩̒̌̓̎̋͂̃͌͝ȅ̴̲͚̅ ̷̢͎̳̙̥̥͕͇̼̽̚͠y̸̩̻͉̮̗̱̤̩̓̈́̋̉͑̊̐͒͌͛o̴̼̳̪̰̚u̶̧͎͎̝͔͊̿̀́̕̕ ̷̧̜͎͔͙͆̂̀̒͋̕ṭ̸̡̮̉͋͌o̸̢̡̜̳̝̦̖̍͊͑͒͒̑͗ ̸̭̻̫̹̖̿̏̓̅̃̄̃͘r̷̖̤̺̭̪͒̈́̈͊̔̋̒ö̷̢̫̘̟͇͎̻́͊̌̐̈̚t̸̘̦̭̫̙̭̱͚̜̓̅̅̈̋̐͝ͅ.̴̭̥̚. You deserve nothing less for your lack of resolve. Were you anyone else, ‘twould be a simple choice. _

A gentle growl rolled up from his throat; it was so deep that Wysteria could feel the vibrations inside her.

_Ah, but you are not just a common woman, are you? _He said, softly._ Nay, you are nothing like the imperial hounds that could retrieve naught but disappointment. You are the Warrior of Light, the hero, my first friend, my vicious enemy. _

_When I reminisce on the battles we have shared, I recall upon the overwhelming euphoria you’ve granted me, the utter bliss that filled mine chest and gave me life. Even in this purgatory, the sensation was just as vivid. You are the source of that joy, and I will not take you for granted._

_‘Twould be madness to dispose of you and hope for another that elicits the same sensation. There is no one like you. I know this to be true. After tasting of the finest fruit, anything less would be as ash upon my tongue. You are special… precious. _

He suddenly scoffed. _Rarely have I given second chances, and yet here I am, giving you a third. To think I could be so forgiving. Hmph._

He drew his fingers back in around her. Were it not for the possessive grip of which he held the Hyur, it almost appeared as if the fiend was cradling her. Perhaps that was the intent, and this was the best his violent mind could do.

_Fine. Once more. _Wysteria smiled weakly as he brushed her bangs back with his thumb. _There is much to do. Imprisoned as I am, our sanctum cannot take the form we wish. A pity, but no matter. We have all that we need to push forward. You have a gift for me._

Did she? The Warrior wasn’t sure what he was talking about, and yet she felt it was true. Without thinking, she placed a hand over her sternum.

_Show me._

Another hand emerged, its index finger moving towards her. The nail was as sharp as a sword and could puncture her easily. Still, the Hyur did not move, waiting for the inevitable. Pain filled her as the tip barely pierced her torso. She gasped and clenched her eyes shut, praying that the torment would end quickly. Her truest desire soothed and reassured her of the decision she made. It was all right. He needed this. They needed this. The Mother Crystal may not approve, it may not be a choice in her best interest, but she had to show him what he yearned for—a glimmer, a taste of those fleeting emotions in all their glorious vibrance. Life.

Light flourished as her blessing came to life. 

_This one, yes? _

The hand withdrew, pulling a bright and fiery tendril from her. The orbs lingered upon it, narrowing into thin slits of ominous crimson.

_I understand. Then we must make haste before you expire. Six crystals. Six days. Each a key to release me._

The Resonant slowly creeped down the thread of fire, twisting around it like a sticky web. When it finally met Wysteria, it burrowed into the Echo’s source and spread through her like an infection; her veins turning black. The Warrior screamed as agony wracked her entire being, rebelling against that hunter.

The process may kill us, and our flesh is already weak from the ritual’s failure, but if you are eager to take the risk, then so be it. Haha! We live for such moments, do we not?

“It hurts… it hurts… it hurts…” She cried.

_You wish to stop?_

“No!” Her screech echoed through the void. “Never. Nevernevernever—“

_Shhh. Tell me…_ his voice rumbled, soft and yet powerful like thunder. _Are you truly so kind?Or simply foolish?_

“Ahhhhh! I…I’m…” It was painful. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. There was only one thing that stood out in her mind through the misery. “I won’t let you go!”

_Hm… _He fell silent for a moment before he chuckled._ And you do not have to. Remember what I told you before: Endure, survive, live. Do so and you will have what you desire. _

The pain was becoming too much. Her body felt as if it was on fire now—no, she was on fire. The flames raged beneath her skin. The Warrior fell limp. As she lost consciousness, she heard the hunter speak one last time.

_Our bond will never be broken, my friend… Wysteria. We shall make it so. Be patient. Remain strong. Defy Her. Accept me. _

********************

Although Wysteria opened her eyes the next morning, she wasn’t awake. Locked in a daze, all she could do was mutter incoherently.

Ingrid hovered over her, using a cool, wet rag on her flushed face. The rest of the family waited in the tatami room, anxiously pacing the floors.

“Zenos…” Wysteria groaned. “Zenos… hold on… I’ll… Zenos… I won’t… wont let you… Zenos… not like this… please… I can… I can… I will… help… save… ”

“She’s been like this since dawn.” Her mother said, turning to the doctor. 

The doctor was a small Raen woman, dressed in the typical priestess attire. She was shorter even than Wysteria, but stood with the power and confidence of a king behemoth. Although she was late in her years, her slender form was tough and weathered. This was a little old lady you didn’t want to mess with.

“Her aether is in such a state of chaos that I cannot tell what is what.” Alphinaud said, lowering his Sharlayn goggles.

“She hasn’t been like this since the eve of her collapse.” Alisaie knelt on the other side of the futon, tending to a cast of frost that outlined the Warrior. They fought to keep her fever under control. “We should have waited. If she was still at the Rising Stones, maybe Y’shtola or Krile could…” Alisaie stopped speaking when her voice cracked, struggling to hold back her tears. The red mage finished her spell and returned to Alphinaud’s side.

“I see the younglings are keeping her on ice.” Tanaka noted, nodding to the twins. “That is well. Those goggles of yours are handy. The world could use more of such devices. However, I fear in this situation, they’ve done more to blind you than see. The waters are too murky here. Sometimes it is better to feel for the truth rather than to look with your eyes.”

“What do you propose?” Alphinaud asked.

“We examine her the old fashion way.” Tanaka removed a lightning shard from around her neck. “The levin within living creatures exerts a lot of energy, allowing one to sense a person’s aether with little interference. ‘Tis one reason that we can achieve mock paralyzation.”

“Pardon?” Ingrid asked.

“The status ailment.” Tanaka clarified. “It disrupts the levin within the body. Until the levin returns to its proper flow, the afflicted struggle to move.” she turned the lightning crystal in her hand. “With this shard, I can discern what’s happening within by static and stings it exerts upon my palm.”

“Fascinating, but is that not painful?” Alphinaud asked.

The Raen chuckled. “I’ve done this for years. It doesn’t bother me.”

Tanaka crouched down next to the dancer. Her small hands hovered an inch above her, sensing and manipulating Wysteria’s energy from the outside. Her brows immediately furrowed.

“Kami forefend! How are her organs functioning under this amount of stress?” Tanaka muttered under her breath. The elder quickly concealed her distress before her observers noticed. “That so much of her darkness and light would settle at the core of her soul is concerning.”

“Does it have something to do with the aether sickness?” Ingrid asked.

“Possibly, but I suspect otherwise. The light and void intermingle throughout our flesh, working in tandem to keep us alive. When there is a wound to mend, pockets of the elements will gather. At this potency, in this specific location… I can only surmise that there has been significant damage dealt to her spirit.” the doctor narrowed her eyes, moving the shard closer to heart.

Wysteria reacted immediately. “S-stop… leave him al—“ she whimpered, flinching away. “Zenos!”

“The void recoils from the crystal. And the light is sheltering it.” Tanaka trailed the violet gem down to her navel. “‘Tis no wonder her fever is running so high. A line of fire aether is being pulled through the shadow and slowly being returned to the stomach. Filtered like this, the fire becomes far more umbral than astral.” she glanced over at Ingrid, who appeared confused. “More active than passive.”

“That isn’t a symptom of aether sickness.” Alisaie added.

“Indeed.” The Raen pulled the crystal away and Wysteria heaved a sigh. “It is a symptom of a soul fracture.”

“What!? Soul fracture? W-what do you mean? How? Did the illness do it? Can you fix it?” the mother was losing her composure. 

“Calm yourself, Ingrid.” the Au Ra held up her hand. “My diagnosis is not yet complete. I need to know more. Wysteria continues to utter the name Zenos. Do you know why?”

Ingrid straightened herself up, cheeks red from her outburst. “I believe so. He was the crown prince of the Garlean Empire; the last man standing between Ala Mhgio and freedom.”

“Ah. She cut him down.”

“No. Wysteria saw him take his own life. Rather… eagerly if I am to understand.” The Highlander said, glancing towards the twins. Alphinaud cringed at the mention.

“He wished to preserve his honor. Any decent warrior would do the same.” The doctor spoke so casually, making the western born trio wince. The culture of suicide in the Far East was drastically different from Eorzea and its neighbors. “Did she express any regret or mourning?”

“Last evening, yes. She told me she wished she could have saved him.”

Surprised, Alisaie looked at the Warrior of Light. “I thought she was having a recurring nightmare of their last battle, considering the state it left her in. Even after everything he did, every abominable thing...” the young Elezen released a shuddering breath, curling her fingers into a fist. “She is too tender, but I am no fool as to complain about her compassion for others. That is one of her greatest strengths.” 

Tanaka fell silent, and the others looked on as she continued to check Wysteria’s vitals. After several minutes, the Raen withdrew the crystal and tucked it back into her shirt.

“Well?” Ingrid pressed.

“As a doctor, I try to weigh as many options as I can.” She said, turning to the group. “I do not easily jump to superstitions as a cause, but in this case I see no other possibility. The signs are all there.” Tanaka climbed to her feet. “Your daughter is not suffering from aether sickness. In fact, it is but a symptom of the actual problem.” she looked at each of them before she spoke again. "I believe a mononoke has possessed Wysteria.” 

Crash! Wysteria’s mother stumbled back against the wall, knocking over a picture frame and several knick-knacks. Shards of glass and ceramic scattered across the floor. No one moved to pick them up, the news rendering them motionless.

“Pardon?” Alphinaud said, blinking rapidly. “I am not sure I heard you correctly.”

“A mononoke. It must have been drawn in by her grief; such is their way. Her soul and that of its own is split. A clean cut between light and darkness. Four perfectly symmetrical pieces. ‘Tis attempting to absorb her dark fragment while she consumes its light.”

“That imbalance would kill her!” Alphinaud cried. “She would only be light!”

“Unless the spirit remains as a counterbalance, becoming her darkness.” Tanaka said.

“And vice versa…” Alisaie added. “She would serve as its light.”

“That appears to be the intent.”

“That can’t be right. Our shrine protects us from such evil.” Ingrid said, clutching a Rhalgar rosary around her wrist.

Alisaie crouched down, picking up the bits and pieces of the glass. “Why would it do this? To what ends?” She asked, looking down at the shard between her fingers.

“To make room for itself, I imagine.” Tanaka replied. “Mankind was not built to carry two souls. Corruption, mutation, and other curses arise as the intruder’s essence seeps into the host. Sometimes these changes are permanent. Sometimes the victim reverts to their original form once they are free.”

“Like Estinien.” Alphinaud whispered.

“This creates a symbiotic relationship between the possessor and the possessed. They become two halves of a greater whole. As romantic as that might sound, the host and mononoke sacrifice their individuality to achieve this—to an extent.” the elder rubbed her chin. “If it completes the process, she and the fiend will be as one. An exorcism would only serve to cast out both of them.” 

“Get it out of her!” Wysteria’s mother demanded.

Tanaka shook her head. “‘Twould not be wise to evict it now. Were I to do so, the fiend would run away with half of her aether and more. She would die instantly. No. We must set about undoing the threads it has woven first. It will take time. A week at best before I can set about properly evicting it.”

“Mama…” Wysteria whimpered out, grabbing her mother’s attention. Ingrid was quick to coo and pet on her daughter, trying in vain to stir the dancer from her delirium.

“I suspect that the spirit latched onto her long before she reached Shirogane. Just to be sure, I will inspect the shrine before I leave.” 

“Mononoke…” the academian pondered. “The word rings familiar, but I cannot place it.”

“In the Western tongue, they’re known as evil spirits, ghosts, demons, etcetera.” Tanaka said as she searched through her satchel. She removed a small wooden tablet with a seal inscribed onto it. “Yokai is another word that the scholars use, but it is a relatively new term. Most in the Far East still refer to these wicked spirits as mononoke.”

“Excuse us for a moment.” Alisaie tugged on her brother’s sleeve, who understood. 

Once the sliding door shut behind them, they took a few paces down the hallway.

“Are your thoughts the same as mine?” Alphinaud asked his sister.

The Elezen narrowed her eyes. “Maybe. Let’s put the theory to the test. It has been a while since we’ve used our ‘psychic twin’ powers.” Alisaie said with sarcasm evident in her tone. “Go on.”

Alphinaud nodded. “With all due respect to Lady Tanaka, I do not believe this is the work of a ‘mononoke’.”

“I agree.” Alisaie said, folding her arms across her chest. “We have done as Y’shtola asked: monitoring the void anomaly. When we examined Wysteria after she’d attempted to strangle herself, the spot had vanished, fading into the rest of her aether. ‘Tis what we expected. Her condition was improving.”

“At least from what we could see. To think that the goggles have hindered us so. Tanaka said that Wysteria’s light was sheltering the void. Perhaps we thought it was gone only because it was hidden from view.”

“Y’sholta was certain that the anomaly was not an Ascian. Still, this reeks of their meddling.”

“What are you saying? Do you believe an Ascian has taken over her?“

“I know not what else it could be! Look at the signs, Alphinaud.”

“The Echo should offer Wysteria protection from their influence.”

“Unless they found a way around it. I would put nothing past those bastards. There is another issue that concerns me more.” Alisaie’s said, her brows furrowing. “Her light and void have gathered around her heart. The last time that happened… the aether became too much for her.”

Alphinaud placed his hands on his twin’s shoulders. “That included every other element, Alisaie. There is still a chance that she will survive. Mononoke or not, Tanaka said she can remove the spirit given time. We must be patient.”

The Red Mage clenched her teeth. “I hate this. I hate feeling so helpless. After everything she’s done for us, we can do nothing. I’m not sure what to do.”

“We can treat the symptoms and keep her as comfortable as possible. Stay by her side. Talk to her. Though she may be asleep, I feel some part of her will hear us. All we can do is hope for the best and leave this in the healer’s hands.”

Alisaie nodded. “You should contact the others.”

“You read my—” the Elezen’s ears twitched as he heard a soft click. He looked down the hallway and caught the sliding door to the tatami room close. “We may have been overheard…”

“They can confront us about it later. We have nothing to hide, but I did not wish to distress lady Ingrid further.”

“Let’s wait until she calms down. We’ll tell the rest of the family our theory then.”

Alisaie agreed, and the twins returned to the Warrior’s bedroom. During their absence, the two women had been busy at work. Several scrips of parchment were now pinned to the wall, radiating with holy energy and bearing Hingashi symbols. They had just finished hanging a rope of hemp above Wysteria’s futon. Although the Elezens found it... different, they would not step on their beliefs.

The old Au Ra wiped her brow. “I will begin undoing the threads the mononoke has created.” she looked to the weary Highlander mother. “You should rest, dear. Tell the men what we’ve learned. We do not want to feed this demon more negative energy.”

Ingrid started to protest, but changed her mind. “I will let you focus then.” She knelt down to give Wysteria a peck on the forehead before departing.

“I would ask that you two remain with me. I may need your assistance.”

“Whatever you need.” Alisaie said. “Would you care to hear us out concerning the spirit’s origin?”

“By all means. Tell me about these Ascians.”

“H-how did you—”

“Old I may be, but an Au Ra’s horns are very sensitive.”

********************

Throughout the week, the priestess attempted to mend Wysteria’s soul and push back the “Mononoke” or Ascian. Regardless of who the intruder was the priestess and the Scions agreed that it had to be removed from the Warrior of Light as soon as possible.

Wysteria suffered through several different symptoms that changed from day to day. Just as the fever receded, bruises appeared on her skin as if she was being crushed beneath the weight of the earth. She vaguely heard her mother console her. 

_Wysteria, you need to let him go. Let Zenos go. This spirit is feeding on your grief for him. What happened wasn’t your fault. He was beyond saving. It’s okay to give in. It’s okay to say you’ve had enough and need to rest._

On the third day, Wysteria could hardly breathe, coughing and sneezing as she struggled for air. It was as if a cyclone was stealing her breath away. Ren’s voice reached her.

_Come on, Sis! You can get through this. You’re a hero. You’re my hero… don’t leave us. Zenos was stupid. He wouldn’t listen to anyone. Don’t beat yourself up over this, please…_

The fourth day, she cried and could not stop. Tears upon tears rolled down her cheeks in her delirium. Alphinaud spoke.

_You do not have to carry everything on your own. I know that we ask much of you—too much, but I’m here for you. There is no need for you to suffer in silence, Wysteria. If something is wrong, tell me. I keep asking myself where I went wrong. What did I do to make you afraid to reach out to me about your feelings? I was there when he took his own life. I know how horrible it was to witness. I don’t judge you for pitying him, but the fault for his death is not yours. Zenos made his choice. _

The fifth day, she could not move. Her entire body was numb, her muscles locking up as if she was being electrocuted. Her father spoke to her.

_Despite what the Westerners may say to you, it is okay to say no. You can lie down, surrender, you can accept whatever your heart desires. If you no longer want to be an adventurer, I will stand with you. If seeing that Garlean take his own life was the last straw, then let it be the last. You decide what you want._

On the sixth day, her temperature dropped dangerously low. Wysteria shivered and wailed as if she were being frozen solid. There weren’t enough blankets in the world to keep her warm. Alisaie tried to comfort her.

_If you need to grieve, grieve. Stop fighting against your own emotions. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Accept that you pity Zenos. I may not understand it, but I would never disregard your feelings. It’s not healthy for you to repress your emotions. Let it out or you will never get past this. Don’t let the Ascian use your grief against you._

Finally, on the seventh day…


	11. Chapter 11

_It is time. _

Her eyes snapped open, and the light burned her retinas in return. Hissing through her teeth, she covered her face. A thousand thoughts shot through her mind, floating within reach of the groggy void, yet she could grasp none of them. When she could finally see her surroundings without trouble, the room rocked and wavered as if it were a surrealist portrait. Nausea struck soon after. The Warrior dry heaved over the wastebasket next to her futon. Déjà vu. It was like she was reenacting the moment she awoke from her coma. Only this time she was alone. No one was there to comfort and ease her back into reality.

The Warrior’s body protested as she sat up, bones popping and muscles shaky from her lack of movement. Despite this, she actually felt better than usual. The weak jelly sensation that had dominated her limbs for weeks wasn’t as prevalent as before. A good sign, but so sudden; especially after the problems she’d had yesterday. Yesterday? It occurred to her she didn’t know what time or day it was. How long had she been asleep?

“Hello?” her voice emerged as a croak. Phlegm had built up from its lack of use.

She looked around the familiar landscape of her bedroom. The pink flower lamps were sparkling, her plushies and wind-up-dolls pristine, and her collection of kawaii buttons and charms dangled on the corkboard. The futon Alisaie had been using had vanished. Her mother must have put it away when the twins stayed at the nearby inn instead. Still, she could have sworn she’d heard the oldest twin speaking to her late last night.

_ “Wysteria, you need to let him go. Let Zenos go. What happened wasn’t your fault. He was beyond saving. You’re stronger than any of us. Don’t give up. Keep fighting. We’re here for you.” _

“Then where are you?”

She tried calling out again. The results were the same.

_ Maybe they stepped outside. I wonder… _

Wysteria wriggled her toes. If she could walk, she could go see for herself. There was no one around to babysit her; so now was the best opportunity to make a genuine attempt. Slow and careful, the Hyur rolled onto her side and worked her legs underneath herself. Although she was sore, she was moving much better than she expected. Hands planted firmly on the futon, she pushed herself up on her knees and transitioned to her feet. With barely a struggle, she was standing on her own for the first time in weeks.

She was in awe. “I thought that would be a lot harder.”

The Warrior placed her hand on the wall, guiding one foot in front of the other like a toddler— or not. As she reached her bedroom door, she quickly realized that she did not need the support. The soreness in her legs was soon a faint memory. The young woman’s heart leaped, so excited that she didn’t hesitate to skip to a nearby mirror. Success! It amazed her she didn’t stumble.

“Wow!” the Highlander twirled. “What kind of medicine did they give me?” she said, giggling. “I look like a mess. I know! I’ll clean up a bit. They’ll be so ecstatic to see me up and about.” she ran her hands through her hair as she carefully made her way to the washroom. “I can’t wait to get this fever sweat off. So sticky. Ew.”

Wysteria turned the knob and looked up at the faucet, expectantly. No water. She turned the second knob. The pipes didn’t so much as hum with a response. Brows furrowed, the Warrior gave the shower head a few gentle taps. 

“Um… okay? No shower then. Are the pipes broken? Mama is probably working on them. You’d think I’d hear her tinkering though.”

Wysteria gave up on the shower and continued her search. Returning to her room, she opened the top drawer of her chiffonier.

“Huh?!”

Empty. Her underwear had vanished. She pulled the second drawer and the two after that. All of them were bare. Wysteria rushed to her closest and threw the doors wide open.

“Hey! Where are all my cloooooothes?!” she cried. Her eyes darkened, and the Warrior growled. “Ren…” she held up her fists. “Is this some kind of joke! It’s hardly appropriate, you jerk! Give them back!”

She listened carefully for a response. Not even a smothered snicker. It was unlike her little brother to not observe the results of his prank from afar. Wysteria hurried down the corridor, hair whipping this way and that as she looked about. She was panicking. This was too odd. The feel of the house was different too: cold, foreboding, and ominous. The silence was maddening. Her house — her mother alone, couldn’t be this quiet. Something was very wrong.

“What is going on? Why is no one here?” she asked out loud, praying for someone to appear and give her an explanation.

The sliding door clicked into place to reveal the tatami room. Although she’d hoped her family and friends were waiting beyond, wondering if they were playing a trick or going to give her a random surprise party, she found it deserted. An aura hung about the area, the air stale and frozen; it was as if time had not touched the place in years. There was no warmth. This was a dead house that no one lived in.

“They have to, uh… b-be on the patio, getting some fresh air. Yes, that’s got to be it.” Wysteria couldn’t explain why, but a streak of fear coursed through her as her fingers curled around the door handle. The icy coolness of the metal made her head throb. “What is happening?” she took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled out her mouth. “It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. Don’t be nervous.”

The tumblers fell into place. The handle turned. “Open the door.” Wysteria growled.

The dancer shielded her face as the sun’s rays poured into the house. Her stomach twisted into knots. The cherry blossom trees that decorated her family’s estate were gone, the crowd of houses nowhere in sight, and the ocean was eerily silent. She knew it was not there. Shirogane had vanished. All she could see was a distorted courtyard, flickering in and out of existence as it struggled to manifest, and...

“Zenos.”

It was only a silhouette, a flaming pillar of shadow bound in the center of the fragmented menagerie. Chains upon chains of translucent blue and gold light held the fiend down, kneeling with his arms locked behind his back. He looked up, smoldering gems of an umbral gale. A smirk formed upon his lips, caged behind a mask reminiscent of an iron muzzle. His teeth were sharp and jagged, like a dragon’s maw.

The woman took a step back. “I’m not awake.” pain struck her chest immediately after. “Nngh!” her pulse howled in her ears. “Another… n-nightmare?”

“Yes.” the Garlean’s ethereal voice soothed the pain, but roused the anxiety. “One that has continued for too long. ‘Tis time you awaken.”

“Wha—“ she started.

Light surged forth from her soul’s core, and she screamed. It was too much. Wysteria dropped to her knees as a torrent of holy energy consumed her. It surrounded her like a whirlwind, bright and loud with the sound of what should have been soothing chimes, but no — it was too intense for that. The Warrior and the draconic abomination were mirrors of one another. His sun to her moon.

“Typical, though not unexpected.” Zenos said. “That you are no longer acting subconsciously bodes well. You are yourself again, a fool happily in denial.”

Wysteria winced, still confused. She was always so fucking confused about everything in these dreams.

“We are halfway there, my friend. Forge the key. Our union cannot wait.” He said.

“Union? Forging keys? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Wysteria cried out.

“You do.”

Wysteria pulled her hair as she reached her limit. She was so tired of the bullshit. “Stop! Stop it! I don’t want to hear anymore of your nonsense. Leave me alone!”

“Lying does not become you, hero. The comfort you seek in ignorance is fleeting. The forefront of your mind may resist, but you know the truth.”

The Warrior fell quiet. There was nowhere else to run. Hells, she wasn’t running or walking. Wysteria hadn’t moved since defeating Shinryu. In spirit, Wysteria was still kneeling by the prince’s corpse.

“Why won’t you go away?” she whispered. Teardrops sprinkled the ground. “I’m so lost. Why am I grieving for you like this? You’re horrible and evil! I hate you!”

Zenos cocked his head to the side, the dark scales on his cheeks shimmering beneath the Ala Mhigan sun. “Then why do you shed tears for me?”

Hearing that made it worse and Wysteria sobbed harder. It took her longer than she would have liked to compose herself. She felt so hollow inside. The man had eaten a hole through her being and made a home there. She wanted to rip him out. She wanted to carry him forever. “What happens if I do nothing and keep ignoring you?” she asked.

“Then death is certain.”

A dry chuckle crawled up her throat. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.” the moment the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t right. “No, I can’t do that. The will to live, fear of death, one of those two—or maybe both—push me to keep going.”

His lips curled into the beautiful smile she adored. “The Hunt still calls to you.”

The Warrior of Light heard a mixture of haunting voices. They were her friends and family, pleading for her to resign her grief and move past the viceroy’s death. To come back to them.

“Will you not answer?” Zenos asked. The Hyur said nothing. “Hmph. You’re determined to remain pathetic.”

He wasn’t wrong, and yet, she despised that he said it. Wysteria could easily beat herself up, but she could not stand for the prince to put her down. It was the exact reaction Zenos hoped for. He wanted her to push back.

“Shut up! I hate it when you say that word! I’m not pathetic!” through passion alone, she stood. Her legs shook, and she felt like the light was about to rip her apart. “I don’t want to be pathetic...”

The monster’s grin widened. Whether she was acting subconsciously or not, the woman chased his proverbial carrot on the stick. “Then prove me wrong. Prove yourself wrong. Break these chains. They bind you as much as they do me.”

The fear remained, an onze of doubt that made her hesitate. The woman grasped at the fabric of her nightgown—no, the cherry pink cotton had been replaced with the angelic attire she’d worn in previous dreams. Her feelings for Zenos were bubbling. The pressure built up in her throat and emerged as a whimper.

“You’re right. I didn’t… I don’t want to let you go. It’s hard for me to explain why. I-I just…” she trailed off.

“I know.” he said, softly.

“But I have to, don’t I? I’m weak from the illness. This conflict has slipped through the cracks of my mind and poisoned my body. It’s killing me.”

“The aether will remain in flux, ravaging this flesh until there is nothing left.”

The Warrior lowered her head. The sound of their opposing elements continued to rage around their forms. Their tendrils desperately reached out for one another, painting twisted spirals across the sky. She longed to embrace Zenos, to pull him into her arms and squeeze him to her body as closely as possible. Her emotions dwindled away what little reason she had left.

“One more fight with you, a last dance between hunter and beast.” Wysteria said with a weak smile. “Maybe then I can put your memory to rest. I don’t know what this union is, and the truth is… I don’t care. Whatever it is or means, an allegory or a physical change, I know it’s okay.”

“And you shall have it. All that and more.” Zenos said.

“Then I will finally be at peace? I will move on? I’ll be whole again?”

“You will grieve for me no more. I assure you. You will be whole, unbroken, stronger.”

The allure of strength, to be better than what she was now. The Warrior craved this. Wysteria bit her lower lip hard. Her irrational fear gnawed at her. It had to be addressed. “Are you the real Zenos?”

The man gave her a single nod. “I am.”

“Or an illusion of grief?”

“If that is your wish, then sure: I am your grief personified.” he sounded annoyed.

Her brows furrowed. “Don’t toy with—“

“Nothing I say will convince you.”

Taken aback, the woman scoffed and looked away from him. He was right. Wysteria couldn’t take his word or that of her own. If she wanted answers, she had to keep moving forward through this illusion.

“Tell me what I need to do.” she uttered.

“Come closer.”

One step at a time, Wysteria approached the prince. Her holy aura shined brighter as she neared him. His shadows responded in kind, deepening in its mesmerizing colors. The holy and void entwined around one another like braided strands. The two sighed in unison, relief pooling out between them. It felt good, too good.

_ I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t stand it anymore! I have to touch him! _

The Warrior’s pulse quickened as she knelt in front of him. He was large and imposing like the very dragon he reflected. The Hyurian woman pressed her forehead to his as she dug her fingers into his hair. She nuzzled her face against his cheek. Finally, she was scratching an unexplained itch she couldn’t reach. A growl rumbled up from the Garlean’s throat. Wysteria stopped briefly, then continued. Zenos groaned and pulled against his restraints.

“Willing flesh to blend the souls, cast out half to become whole… we must do this soon, lest our broken anima go mad. Hurry, beast.”

Being so close to him, the Warrior realized there was a heart-shaped padlock around his neck. It glowed white-hot and brilliant, nearly as blinding as the holy energy around her. It connected each chain that bound the prince. 

The pain within her chest intensified without warning. She arched back, fighting to endure the onset of agony. The crystals of light manifested around her; However, they were not in their iconic shape. From fire to ice, every one had morphed into a key.

“We did well to mold them considering our limited time frame.” Zenos said.

Finding her bearings, Wysteria examined them. “There’s six keys and only one lock.”

“One lock. One key. ‘Tis a simple solution.”

“Oh, so I should...” Wysteria bundled the gems together. They thrummed with heat. “One lock. One key.” the Warrior repeated as she focused upon the objects. Her blessing glowed, and the keys reacted, melting down and merging into a single diamond.

“Good.” Zenos purred. “Free me—_ free us _, and this torment that has contorted your savage little mind will pass.”

“Do you promise?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“You have my word.”

The Warrior took a deep breath before taking hold of the latch. Her hands trembled as she brought the key to the opening. It sunk into the hole and she could sense the pressure sinking into her soul. A simple flick of the wrist, and her task would be complete. Zenos quirked a brow when she paused.

_ Why can’t I finish this? All I have to do is turn the key. _ Wysteria sighed, knowing exactly the reason. _ I’m afraid. I want to know the truth, but I’m terrified. If he’s real— _

“Wysteria.”

She kept her head down, unable to meet his gaze.

“What do you yearn for?” His velvety voice caressed her heart.

_ What do I want? _Wysteria stared up at him.

“Name it, and it shall be yours.”

The question of her own ambitions rarely, if ever, passed the lips of the Scions. Did they care? Probably. They weren’t cruel, but she always felt as if they regarded her as a weapon or dog that couldn’t think for herself. Not that she could blame them. She was too timid to speak up. Verbal conflict wasn’t her forte, and she felt too stupid to debate Sharlayan intellectuals. 

Haurchefant was the only one that ever cared to ask. He saw her not only as a champion, but as the troubled woman within. He listened to her vents, wiped her tears away, and held her when she could take no more. It hurt to think about those happy memories, knowing where they led. Remembering how she failed him was harrowing. To reflect on the man and cry was not something the knight would have chosen for her; so, she repressed her grief rather than work through it. He asked her to smile and so she tried. As long as she pushed it down, she could manage.

Zenos was drastically different from the knight. He was the hunter that lured her in with challenge and personal freedom. He was rough and blunt, yet honest. It meant more to the Warrior than the empty flowery words she heard too often. They held no weight coming from the Alliance leaders or Scions. “We stand with you.” They said as they sent her against threat after threat. She was almost always by herself. Sometimes she resented them for that. 

Zenos regarded her as an equal, a hero and savage woman both. She loved fighting him more than any other foe, obsessed over the legatus as he did her. Together, they fanned the flames of their battle lust to a towering height. When they engaged in violence, Wysteria could think of nothing else. In a strange way, it was liberating. She was free of her mortal worries and bathed in the depravity.

The man was fine with her selfishness; encouraged her to take and dominate. He praised her violent side, who fought and adventured for herself—for the pure therapeutic joy that it brought to her psyche. It was as if he knew she never asked for fame; it impeded her actual goal—to have fun and make friends. Despite this simple fact, she did enjoy helping others. Her role as the Warrior of Light just blew up bigger than she expected. The pressure overwhelmed her. 

All those who truly saw her as herself were gone. Death had won. She was alone. Alone in the middle of a crowd, and no one noticed she was weeping. They did what they could to mend their broken tool, but not for her sake. It was for their own reasons. She recalled her father’s words: Will you find another naïve adventurer to fill her shoes now that she’s out of the picture? She wondered that too. 

Zenos drew her attention back. “What does the fox truly hunger for, hm?”

“I…” she licked her lips. “It’s selfish.”

“Indulge yourself. Do you not deserve it?”

“It’s wrong.”

“By whose authority? Your own, or that of your leeches? They cannot command you here, nor should they ever. So, why hold back?”

“Zenos…” her wrist gradually rotated until she heard a click. “You.” the lock vanished. The key disintegrated within her hand. All sound ceased, and the wind stilled. “I want to be with you.”

A flux of power emerged from the shadows with a deafening roar. The force of it sent Wysteria tumbling. The clouds darkened, and the sun evaporated from sight. Gusts of air swirled about, transforming the gentle summer breeze into a raging hurricane. The power that surrounded the menagerie was so intense that she couldn’t stand.

Zenos hovered before her, a radiant demon in all his primal glory. “Rise, Warrior!” his katanas manifested, floating within his reach. He snatched Ame-no-Habakiri from the air and pointed it at his foe. “Let us embrace violence together! The curtain rises, and this painful intermission finally draws to a close. Our performance begins anew. The stage belongs solely to us. No fools or meaningless politics to stand in our way. It is only you and I; just as it should be.”

“Then get ready.” Wysteria beamed up at him. “Ghost or illusion, this beast is going to leave her mark.”

Zenos laughed. “Haha… That is what I like to hear. The honor of the first shot is yours, my friend. Give it your all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been about a year since I started this fic, but it sure doesn't feel like. If you've stuck around this long, thank you. I'm sorry this is short. It's been a rough couple of months... I hope you bear with me.


End file.
